


Hero of War

by Papageno



Series: Baelor the Impaler [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Based of a CKII GOT character i played, Blood and Gore, Cruelty, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mix of Show and Book Canon, Multi, Plot Twists, R Plus L Equals J, Sexual Content, Targaryen Family Dynamics, The Tragedy of Summerhall, Title from Rise against, Torture, Why Did I Write This?, all credit to George RR Martin, mainly targaryen storyline focused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 09:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 36,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15861195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papageno/pseuds/Papageno
Summary: From Archmaester Marwins History of the long night:Born the son of two disinherited Targaryens in 254 AC, Baelor Targaryen, commonly known as "Baelor the Impaler" was one of the best known warriors during the wars of his time. However the first mentioning of his name in the histories of the seven kingdoms was in 259 in Archmaester Gyldayns Targaryen history...





	1. Prologue: Summerhall, 259 AC

**Prologue**

**Summerhall 259 AC**

"Baelor, it is time now, go get your egg."

King Aegon gently shoved him forth and the little boy ran to his room. Today was the great day, finally. The king promised him he would get a dragon from him if he only gave the king his egg in exchange. Aegon thought Baelor to be a stupid little Boy, but Baelor was alrady  _five_ and knew many things. He knew that the king wouldn't trade the eggs for the dragons for he had seen the fat black chicken in the chicken pen at the village and how she sat on her eggs until tiny chickens would come out. He had taken his savings ( 3 copper stars the lord commander gave him to buy sweets) and bought one of the chickens from the farmer. He had tucked it under his tunic and smuggled it to his room at summerhall were he sat it on his egg, but the dragon wouldn't come out. When Princess Rhaella visited him in his room she laughed and told him a chicken was to small to hatch a dragon. He believed her because Rhaella was 10 years his elder and also the nicest person in the castle. When she told the king he even allowed him to keep his chicken, but three days later he was forced to put it to the castle chickens because Aerys in the room next to his complained the hall reeked of chicken shit.

He took the egg from it's hiding place under the pillow and looked at it. He had gotten it one year prior after his father drowned in a lake in the kingswood. It was his grandfathers befor that but nobody told him anything about him, even if he asked. He looked at the egg for a moment and held it in the sunlight. The gold and silver colour shone beautyfully when he turned it around.  _I hope the dragon doesn't destroy the shell when it hatches,_ he thought. When he ran out of his room he saw Aerys standing in front of his, kissing a young women with brown hair.

"Baelor you little rascal!", Aerys shouted while he shoved the girl into his room. "Why haven't you brought your egg to the hall yet? You should better hurry!"

With that Aerys took him by the hand and quickly led him through the castle.

"Who was that Aerys? Why were you kissing her? You are married to Ella and she will have a baby, so you can' kiss other girls!"

Aerys pulled him into an empty room, knelt before him and looked the boy in the eyes. 

"Listen Baelor, it doesn't matter who she is. I can kiss her because i am a man, and that is in my right as a man, alright? So now let this be our secret, alright? And if you tell Rhaella, i will eat all your sweets for as long as you live and take all your toys for myself you understand?", Aerys said smiling, but his light violet eyes looked dangerous.

Baelor quickly nodded. He loved sweets and he just got a new toy for his name day three weeks before and wasn't done playing with it yet.

"Good boy", Aerys said as he took the boy on his arms and carried him the rest of the way.

 

*******************************

When Aerys put him down in the hall everybody stood there waiting. He ran up to the king, clutching the egg to his chest. Aegon stood before a pyre with six eggs on it and turned around as soon as he saw him and smiled, but his eyes remained the sames as for days with deep black rings around them and somehow sunken in and glowing with a feverish fire. He held the egg out with both hands and looked proudly at the other eggs. None of them was as beautiful as his and that meant he would have the most beautiful dragon. He stood back from the king who placed the egg on the pyre and prince Duncan laid a hand on his shoulder. He imagined himself as a grown up, riding on a great golden dragon wearing the white armor of a kingsguard with his long silver hair (of which he was very proud and would noone with a scissor near it) flowing in the wind.

"Dear Family", Aegon began, "we have come together here, all the blood of the Dragon, not only to celebrate the impending birth of my grandchild but also the rebirth of our house! From today on, the Targaryens will once again rule land, sea and air until the end of time!"

Daeron and Aerys started to applaud as the king pulled out a dagger and cut thruogh his palm. He then smeared th blood on every one of the eggs and gave the dagger to Duncan. Every Targaryen in the room did the same until all the eggs were covered in blood. Baelor winced with pain as his mother dragged the dagger trough his hand, but tried to look brave as he put it on the eggs. Eventually everyone had put his blood on the eggs and were handed clean cloths to still the bleeding. The king then proceeded to take a torch from the wall and hold it to the fire.  _Wait a minute, blood is wet so the wood can't burn!_ ,he thought as the pyre began to burn like a pot of oil. Everybody stepped back a few steps because of the heat radiating from the large pyre. Shadows danced on the walls in ways their originators certainly didn't and it  seemed as if the fire formed figures, dragons and beasts unheard of in westeros until it suddenly pulled together to an tiny flame. The king stepped closer as the shadows continued to move even without the necessary light, though noone except him seemed to notice it. He watched in horror as Aegon started to pray in Valyrian and the shadows flew back to the pyre were the flame became brighter and brighter. As if pulled on strings everybody stepped closer, Baelor standing at the back with Rhaella. Suddenly, as Aegon put forward his hand in the flame, it became larger thean ever before in a split second. The pyre exploded and everybody flew back and screamed. He looked to his mother for help but Vaella Targaryen screamed in agony as her hair had caught fire and the whole hall started collapsing. He ran forward, _he had to save his mother!_ As a strong arm wrapped around his belly and dragged him back.

"Mother!", he screamed at the top of his lungs until he heard the voice at his ear.

"Come on laddie, i have you save!"

It was the Lord Commanders voice. He looked behind him and saw a white Chestplate. He was save, _everyone was saved._ Ser Duncan was the greatest hero in Westeros he would get them all out.

 

                                                                                                                        *******************************

 

Ser Duncan ran with the boy under his left arm whie he dragged Rhaella with the right. He looked for a way out of the burning castle as his eyes fell on a huge glass window. He knew the window was probably 9 feet above the ground before a pond in the garden so he could make it if he jumped through it. However he had to reach the pond so they wouldn't fall on the stones. He began to ran towards the window and jumped right trough he heard the boy scream in pain. Also he couldn't make the jump to the pond with his armor and two persons in his arms. They all fell down on the big round stone at the lake. His face hit a rock and he could feel his ankle burning with pain. But he forced himself up, dragged the two into the lake and waded through the shallow water with them in tow. On the other bank he stood and looked back to summerhall. The magnificent castle was completely engulfed by flames and he could see two person crawling out the main gate, no more. He shouted "Over here'' to them and turned to the two he had saved. He stood still in shock. Rhaella laid on her back, breathing heavily while her white dress was getting bloodier by the second, while Baelor laid on his side crying and cutching his face which was also a bloodied mess full of glass splinters and mud from the lake.

"There are some here",  he heard a women shout.

"The child, the princess is having the child" ,he said as loud as he could, but his voice was so silent all of a sudden. Some peasant women ran past him to care for the princess and one took the boy to clean his wounds.

 _My head hurts,_ he tried to say, but the words wouldn't come out. He felt a little dizzy and somehow his legs stopped working and he fell to the ground.  _What is happening,_ he thought _, and why is it suddenly so cold? I could feel the heat of the fire a minute ago._  He saw how some men looked down at him and said something he didn't understand. Then, slowly the world faded to black.       


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baelor grows up in Kings Landing at the mad kings court.

 

Chapter 1

Kings Landing, 264 AC

The horde of boys ran into the courtyard screaming, shouting and shoving each other. Sons of guards, knights and lords alike were playing in the summer sun while younger children and girls ran out of their way. He was ten years old and one of the oldest and strongest boys in the group. However, it was Willam, the son of the captain of the guards who was already twelve who decided what was played.

"We'll do the battle of the redgrass field! I am Baelor Breakspeer!"

"I'm Maekar!"

"I'm Redtusk!"

"Fireball!"

"Daemon Blackfyre!"

The boys screamed at each other to get the role they desired in the play. Baelor wanted to argue it was in his right to play Spearbreaker since he shared his name, but he knew Willam was stronger than him and the strongest one had to play the hero.

"I will be Bloodraven!", he proudly declared.

"Bloodraven was a sorcerer and a coward.", Clement, one of the older boys said.

"You take that back! He had Dark Sister and Dark Sister was only for the brave and worthy!"

"A girl sword!"

"So the Dragonknight was a girl, huh?"

"Fuck off, you know i am not tought by the Grandmaester!"

"Not my fault you're as dumb as a donkey and twice as ugly!"

"At least i still have a face and not a ton of scars!"

Baelor instantly touched his left cheek. His injuries in summerhall had caused the left side of his face to be a sea of cuts he always covered up with hair. He had been told his face was so full of splinters that they hadn't been able to find all of them so the grandmaester had cut up his cheek again a few moons ago to get the rest out that had been grown in. The result were less pains but a big red scar from his chin to his eye, the queen had told him that it would never heal properly, he would always carry the scars.

"Shut up Clem!", he roared with tears in his eyes, " A true warrior has scars, unlike you, you... dumbass!"

"Your no warrior, your not even a squire!"

"Aerys said i will be his squire, or Lord Tywins!"

"You, you cry like a girl 'cause a boy called you ugly!"

Baelor then stormed forth and ran into Clem who too started to fight him. The game was forgotten as the young boys made a circle around the much more interesting fight. Baelor came out on top and started hitting clement in the face with his little fists. The other boy however lost no time and kicked the young Targaryen away with all his might. Baelor landed on his back as the older boy sat on his chest and pommeled him with hits. He then somehow managed to break free when he took him by the neck and pulled his head down to hit him with his forehead. Clem's nose started bleeding and he then hit Baelor even harder. The younger boy lost count of the hits when he heard a sickening crack and blood streamed out of his nose as well. He somehow managed to put his arms up to cover him when he heard the sound of a riding whip and a sharp cry of pain from Clement. He opened his eyes to see the king standing there, having just returned from a ride in the city.

"You dare striking a prince of the blood you little mongrel? Who is your father, he has spent his last day in my castle!"

"Aerys, it was me.", Baelor managed to whisper.

The king turned to him and looked down at him with anger. _Oh no_ , he thought as the king asked :

"What was you?"

"The brawl, i started it. Clem called Brynden Bloodraven a craven and i called Clem ugly. He then called me uglier and i started punching him.", he finished.

He looked to the kingsguards behind Aerys but Ser Gerold and Ser Barristan remained unreadable. The king then took the boy by his wrist and dragged him with him. He pulled him into an empty storage room and made him sit on the ground.

"You didn't upset me because you fought, i want you to know that. The upsetting thing is, you failed. You tried to defend your kins honour but you lost again some lowborn boy. You will face your rightful punishment for your failure and then you will learn to win a fight, you understand me?"

Baelor nodded, crying.

"Good. In three days i will make you my squire, but until then you will stay in this room and only get bread and water, you understand?"

"But Aerys..."

"No BUTs. I am the king, so i can think of any punishment i like, boy. Now take your shirt off."

"What?"

"Take your shirt off. I hit the other boy five times. Now you will get five hits as well, to teach you never to lose again, right."

Baelor wanted to scream, to shout it was unfair but he only managed to nod. He shivered while pulling off his shirt.

"Good boy. Now stand and take your punishment like a dragon and i will have a blanket brought to you for the next days."

Baelor stood on his shivering knees and looked at the wall. He tried to brace himself for the impact but couldn't stop himself from screaming.

"Stop that. A Dragon never screams."

Baelor bit down on his lower lip when the second hit came. At the fourth he tasted blood. The fifth made him fall to the ground and lose conscience.

 

*******************************

 

 

269 AC, The Red Keep

Baelor stood outside Queen Rhaellas chamber with his grand-cousin Rhaegar as King Aerys walked up and down the room to manage his excitement. The queen had gone into labour 6 hours ago and the child still hadn't come out. However, the grandmaester claimed the child was still alive, kicking and moving inside her. After three dead children in the ten years following Rhaegars birth the king began to lose hope for another living child.

Baelor had been Aerys squire for five years now, being trained by the kingsguard every day from sunrise till midday, then attending to the Kings commands until the evening. Aerys also insisted on him studying military history and especially the past Targaryens. He learned to fight with swords, axe and mace, but the knights had given up on him learning to joust after he proved a hopeless case. He possessed some grace with the sword, but his style was never really spectacular. He never made a turn, a swing to much and often used kicks, dodges and shoves instead of "fighting honorably" as Ser Barristan would call it. At age twelve Aerys commanded they should fight him with real steel instead of blunted or wooden swords after he ran to him after another squire broke his wrist with a tourney sword. The king said it was the only way for him to learn avoiding being hit.

Finally, there came a high scream from Rhaella from the door, followed by the silent wailing of a babe. The midwife pushed open the door and declared a boy had been born. Aerys smiled warmly for the first time in hours and entered the room.

"Daeron, he shall be Daeron of house Targaryen."

Baelor watched the door close behind the king and looked to Rhaegar who smiled solemnly. "Come on Rhae, we can go play with our friends now.", he said.

"Do you know were Art is?", Rhaegar asked him.

"No, but you can come with me and my friends today. We'll just play something in the godswood."

Rhaegar's smile grew bigger at that, he liked playing with the elder children even though he most times couldn't partake in their games. Baelor liked to ride hunting with his friends Quentin and Tytos, two young heirs of an age with him, but also went drinking together with a young septon at court or even just getting into mischief with the two young girls in his circle of friends, Betha and his best friend Sadie, two bastard girls sent to court as debutantes. In two months he would be 16 and receive his fathers small hunting chalais in the kingswood as a gift along with his knighthood. He planned on taking his friends with him, or at least Septon Marsh and the girls because Tytos would remain Ser Gerolds squire and Quentins father was sickly, so there was a good chance for him to ascend to Banefort in the near future.

He walked trough the gardens together with the ten year old as he heard his friends behind a hedge.

"You think he'll come or is he riding out with the king again all night?", Quentin asked.

"What do you mean by that?", Sadie asked.

"Didn't he tell you? King Aerys took him to one of his mistresses and arranged her little cousin for him to loose his virginity.", Tytos stated.

"He did what?!", Sadie exclaimed loudly.

Baelor cursed under his breath as he covered Rhaegars ears. He didn't want to tell the girls because Aerys told him he should never talk to a lady about their activities in the city. He said it was nothing a girl or wife should be concerned with and that it was their little secret.

When Ty then proceeded to elaborate further he quickly stepped out of the bushes with Rhaegar.

"Ty, shut up about things you don't know anything about!", he shouted at the perplexed fourteen year old.

"Oh, greetings Prince Rhaegar.", Sadie exclaimed with false joy, "Would you allow me to take away Prince Baelor for a minute?"

The girl didn't wait for a respond and pulled him by the sleeve of his black shirt into a group of trees nearby. He instantly recognized it as the tree he first kissed her under four years ago when they were eleven and she heard him being taunted by another squire in the training yard that he never kissed a girl before.

She turned to face him and gave him a slap before he could do anything. He anticipated the second one however and caught her hand mid-air. She then pulled up her knee into the red dragon on his woolen black jerkin and he stumbled back a few steps after letting go of her wrist.

"Why did you do that?", she demanded to know as he staightened up again.

"The sex or interrupting Tytos?", he asked innocently.

"When i asked you, you said you wanted to wait!"

"I know i can't marry you and i won't dishonor you or leave you with a ...", he stopped himself before he said it.

"A what? A Bastard? Get it out, i've heard it often enough in the Hightower from my stepmother, this barren bitch.", the girl said, "And why would you leave me when i have a bastard, huh?"

He couldn't think of an answer for that, it simply seemed the natural thing to do for a lord. He even asked Aerys if he could marry Sadie one day, but the king told him it was impossible. He couldn't answer fast enough however, so the girl turned around on her heel and stormed off, back to the others.

Baelor felt anger rise in him, at Aerys, who forced him to go with him, at Ally, the kings mistress in her house in the city and even her cousin Bessie, who had no fault in it and had cried when he took her maidenhead that night.

He was in no mood to return to the others and walked to the stables instead to saddle his horse, a gift from Aerys for his nameday three years ago, a six year old mare named Syrax, a daughter of Aerys' mighty destrier Balerion. Sy had nothing of a warhorse in her, she was a kind young thing who could run as swiftly as the wind and jump over 3 feet high. He rode out of the gate and down from Aegon's Hill in a slow trot.

When he crossed the market he heard a voice call: "My prince."

Baelor turned to see Bessie and her stupid cousin Ally stand there with their guards, buying some clothes. He turned away with an angry look that made the girl go white and urged his horse to a gallop up Visenyas Hill. He then stopped at his and Marsh's favorite tavern and entered after giving his horse to a stable boy.

He went to their favorite table and found no Marsh but three young guards from the red keep he faintly recognized.

"Get the fuck away from my table." he heard himself say.

Two of the guards, young men about twenty years old quickly stood up along with the frightened whores on their laps. The third one, around his age however stayed seated and smiled at him angrily.

"I'm here to become a man today Baelor, but before that i want to drink.", he said.

Baelor looked at him intently and recognized Clement, the young boy from five years ago.

"Then take your whore to an inn, or an ally nearby, Clemmie.", he spat out."I want to drink and you sit at my table."

"There are no other tables here my prince.", one of the guards intervened, but was quickly silenced by a glare.

"Clem stand up now or i will beat you to a pulp here and now.", he said calmly.

Clem stood up. While Baelor was Tall at 6 feet, Clem stood half a foot higher and wore a helmet. He confidently put a hand on his mace and smiled.

"I've beaten you before and we still have the beating the king gave me afterwards to settle. And you are unarmed."

Clem looked down in Baelors pale purple eyes. That was his mistake for Baelor's hands suddenly slashed up and took Clem by the shoulders, then he pulled up his knee to the young mans crotch. Clem bent over and Baelor kicked him in the face, then proceeded to spit down on him when he laid on the ground. He sat own at the table and pulled a long dagger out of his boot.

"Go now Clem and i might forget this. We're even, as far as i'm concerned."

The other guards pulled the boy to his feet and left the tavern, muttering thanks as they went away.

 

*******************************

 

Baelor woke up to a glass of wine being emptied in his face. He looked up to see Sadie standing there along Marsh and Ser Barristan.

"What are you doing here Baelor?", she asked. Ser Barristan looked rather amused and Marsh threw him an apologetic look.

"Drinking.", he grunted and reached for the bottle of wine before him. It was empty, just like the other two.

"Marsh came to the red keep an hour ago and said he had heard you had been beating up some guard for nothing at all."

"He was at my table."

"You knocked three teeth out of his mouth!"

"He had broken my nose five years ago!"

Sadie sighed and sat down at his table while Barristan muttered something and left with the Septon following, saying something about his duties. Baelor ordered a new bottle and two glasses. Sadie added she would just like some water. He didn't look at her as their drinks came and simply drank from the bottle.

"Sadie i like you, but Aerys made me do it.", he finally said after minutes of silence.

She looked at him now and said: "Oh no, so the king took you at the neck and shoved you into a poor little whore with force?"

"No but he said it was time i became a man and... and i was drunk and she was there so it just happened.", he forced out.

  


Sadie opened her mouth to speak as Baelor quickly kissed her on the lips. She pushed him away and stood up.

"I don't want to force you into anything Baelor. I don't love you, but you are my friend and we had all our firsts together, kiss, wine, hunt, i simply assumed we could do that too."

"Let's go back to the keep Sadie.", he managed to say after a while. He was ashamed, he knew Sadie had the absurd thought noone would ever marry a bastard girl, so she had decided to instead give her maidenhead to him as her best friend.

They rode back to the keep in silence and the following months not even one of the friends noticed something odd about their way with each other. But the morning following his nameday and knighting he didn't show up when the friends wanted to go to his castle. Upon further questions they found out he left for Essos.

It would be two years before they would see Baelor Targaryen again.

 

  


 


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part I of Baelors time across the narrow sea.

270 AC, The Disputed Lands

 

He rode next to his captain who was wearing his ragged sash made of colorful patches. After he and Tatters had left the maidens men, Tatters founded his own company together with five comrades, now the company had five hundred men. Even though he was a Pentoshi, Tatters was of old valyrian descent and had long silvery hair,much alike Baelor himself had before he had cut his long hair for the first time. The braid he had worn it in had been caught in a pike during his first battle with the tyroshi half a year before, so he had cut it short and shaved it off completely on the sides. The hair on top had grown back so he combed it to the left side of his head to cover his scars, on the right side he had gotten a three headed dragon as a tattoo when he visited volantis with the maiden's men. The red beast covered a large portion of his head and stretched down to his neck. 

His friend Caggo rode right of the tattered prince, holding their blue and white flag. Today they had to ride hard to the coast to attack the tyroshi forces after they made landfall, before they could establish a defensive position. The myrish crossbowmen marched first, followed by the company of the rose and the windblown. 2,000 mercenaries along with 500 myrish soldiers against whatever the tyroshi could muster. They still had half a days ride before they would reach the coast were the tyroshi fleets were headed to. The position of the landing ground came from a captain in the tyroshi fleet who was in the pocket of the myrish government.

 

*******************************

 

They rode up silently, the weapons covered with cloth to prevent them from clinking. At the top of the ridge they could see the tyroshi fleet, the soldiers on the beach disembarking and setting up a camp. As Captain Denzo blew his horn to call to the men to start the attack the men on the beach stopped dead in their tracks and turned around. When the company of the rose answered with their own horns the Tattered Prince gave the order and the Windblown on the left flank started a gallop down to the beach. Baelor gripped his mace tightly with his left and held the reins short. He could see the men on the beach running around, some searching for weapons while others simply darted of back to the boats. There were about a thousand mercenaries on the beach,counting  the remaining ships there were four times that still embarked. About two hundred formed a embarrassing excuse of a shieldwall against the charging troops.

"These men are heroes!", Caggo shouted, " they will give a good fight!"

The men cheered as they came into reach of their arrows. Some of the Tyroshi shot at them but they were not enough for a real volley. The flank on the right crashed into the shieldwall while the windblown charged through their camp to the ships. He hit a running man in the back of the head with his mace and rode over his falling corpse. As the Windblown reached the ships they were met with many arrows and spears from the soldiers that tried to get back to the sea. Tatters immediatly gave the command to dismount and build a shieldwall. Baelor left the mace hanging in the saddle and took his axe from the squire he handed the horse to. He quickly grabbed a big black shield from the supplies of the tyroshi and took cover behind it. The Company of the Rose and the Myrish regulars cleared the camp and took the ships under fire. Flaming arrows and even torches flew across the beach to the tyroshi ships, some of which hit dry wood and set them to fire. They couldn't advance to the ships however as the sailors shot back with projectiles of all sorts, bolds of crossbows and ballistas as well as throwing axes. The Tyroshi pushed the galleys back into the waves using long stakes and managed to save all except three that the soldiers abandoned when they caught fire. The Men around him began to cheer and taunt the fleeing enemy.

 

******************************

 

 Baelor leaned to a pole of the commander's pavilion. Together with the tattered prince, Denzo, Caggo and the Commander of the Roses, a gruff northmen named Rodrik he listened to the myrish commander-in-chief, a old man who never killed a man in combat but was a skilled tactician nonetheless. Commander Tario talked about the distribution of the loot between the men, a important point of business. Someone tapped Baelor on the shoulder and he quickly stepped aside to let a myrish messenger pass. The man handed a sealed scroll to the commander and he read it before he adressed them.

"Gentlemen, it seems the free city of Myr is no longer in need of your services. This here says we could employ the golden company to fight for our cause, they will take over your contract."

"Are you fucking kidding me you old bastard!?", General Rodrik shouted.

"You cannot simply fire us now!", Denzo added.

"We can and i'm afraid we will. You can keep the loot from today, but you are no longer allowed in this camp. Leave until morrow."

Tatters said nothing, he only nodded to Caggo and Baelor. Caggo quickly walked out as Baelor closed the flap of the tent.

"It seems you are not fully aware of the situation at hand.", the tattered prince said softly, "We are 3,000 mercs against your miserable 1,000 archers. And you are here alone, with 4 of those who are armed, angry and way stronger than you. Caggo went out to get our men ready. But when they are ready, we won't simply go, we will take everything, kill you, your men and take the loot with us."

The commander opened his mouth to scream as Rodrik jumped at him across the table and shut him up with a fist. Baelor lunged at him to and bound the myrish mans arms tightly behind his back. They dragged the old man up to his feet and brought his face before Tatter's chest. The Mercenary looked down at Tario and hit him on the mouth with his metal glove. Teeth fell out of Tario's mouth and he started to cough.

Now they could hear the commotion outside the pavilion. Men yelled in the myrish tongue as the windblown and men of the rose turned on them.

 

****************************************

 

 

An hour later eight hundred myrish crossbowmen lay dead on large mountains of corpses, 138 had chosen to take the arms of the windblown or roses. Denzo and Commander Rodrik were currently haggling about the loot they had gained today, with the addition of the belongings of the myrish troops. Baelor sat around a fire with Tatters, Caggo and a few other officers in the company. He had taken the coat of the myrish commander, a heavy black leather coat with golden inlays on the sleeves and shoulders and cleaned it of blood and dust as they talked about their next moves.

"I think we should go to Volantis and make for slaver's bay", Caggo said, "The myrish will send the golden company after us unless we are to far away."

Baelor spat out into  the fire. 

"We will not run to slavers bay. The only thing to do now is to get into the service of either Tyrosh or Lys. Lys would be better, the myrish government won't risk to send the golden company there or Lys will enter the war on Tyrosh's side if they do so."

"We still need to decide what to do with  _him_.", Caggo said, nodding to the bound form of Tario. 

"Let's make a example of him.", Tatters decided. 

Baelor gave it a little thought. 

"I know a good way. Slow, painful and like a massive flag we can leave here with the corpses."

"What do you mean Baelor?", Tatters asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I mean, i need a high stake.", Baelor smiled. "There was Baelor the Blessed and there was Baelor Breakspear. Good, honorable and pios men. Both of them died however, honorable and stupid. The next of this name should be another type of man. I will be Baelor the Impaler."


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II of Baelors essossi experience, the free city of Lys

Free City of Lys, 271 AC 

Baelor disembarked their ship at the port of Lys. They were employed by the Lysene Continental Command to defend their holdings on the mainland a year prior. After their quite turbulent time with the myrene forces in a real war, the peacetime at the lysene outposts was quite boring. All the fighting they had to do was a minor skirmish with a tiny khalasar that raided some villages and hunting down some bandits. The dothraki at least made decent money when they sold the horses they didn't need and after the lysene High Command gave them their share of the sold women and children. But now the lysene were at war with Tyrosh and needed the Windblown to guard the city itself so they were shipped over to the island.

The air was hot and humid, the water was clear and turquoise, even in the port bassin. Baelor had taken off his shirt and only wore his  black leather vest studded with chainmail and silver ornamentation along with wide wine-red linen pants tucked into his knee-level riding boots. He had his axe stuck in his broad riveted leather belt and his mace hung in a bag on his back.

They walked behind Captain Bolono, the leader of the fleet sent to ship them over. 

"Name?", the bored looking official asked him.

"Baelor Targaryen", he answered.

"Targaryen?", the man suddenly looked up.

"Yes, of the seven kingdoms. Will that be a problem?", he asked.

"Not at all, your grace, it is an honor for us to have a prince of valyrian blood in our great city."

 

They walked on and entered trough the gates of the main city wall. The city was truly beautiful, the streets clean and broad with beautiful palaces lining both sides. The dominant colors were white, blue and green, the walls of the houses painted white just like the stones of the streets. Even the people mostly wore light colours and had white or silver hair with pale skin and blue or purple eyes. The wealthier wore flowing white silk and sat in carriages drawn by beautiful white horses. There were many slaves on the streets, clad in simple tunics, following their masters on their business in the city, carrying umbrellas or packages with purchases. Some looked at Baelor with great interest, some giggling young girls even pointed at his tattoos. In addition to the dragon on his head he had gotten his arms covered in valyrian motives like flames, valyrian glyphs and another large dragon was displayed all over his chest inside of a fiery ring. Baelor still was very proud on his looks, even with the prominent scars on his face and now even some on his arms and body, along with a particulary nasty one on his ass where he had been cut by an arakh. That was the major reason for his tattoos, even if his pride in his valyrian heritage played a big role as well.

So he  simply turned to the girls and gave them a cheeky grin, which resulted in even more giggling. Tatters turned around and smiled faintly at him. Then he said in his pleasant and silent voice:

"Great Impaler, don't forget we will leave one day." 

Baelor laughed.

"I know, or else i wouldn't be doing this", he said, causing chuckles from the fellow officers.

 

The Windblown had been given barracks near the citygate to the countryside of the island. They would be tasked with scouting missions, such as following the trail known as "Rider's Road" that went around the whole isle to alert them of tyroshi ships if need would arise and patrolling the walls of the city every day. Tatters had explained to them that it was merely a diversion for them so they wouldn't need to be put on a leash on the mainland if the men got bored. He changed his attire to a more princely garb and handed his weapons to a servant as he and the fellow officers were invited to a feast in the palace of one of the magisters as a sign of good will.

 

*************************************

 

They were greeted with fine wines and freshly picked fruit as soon as they entered the manse. Beautiful slaves led them to the patio where the magisters waited for them. One of them, a middle aged man in white robes walked to them.

"Greetings, brave captains! I am full of joy to welcome you into my humble home. The mighty Prince of the Mercenaries, the praised Denzo D'han the poet of the battlefield and Prince Baelor of the Sunset Kingdom. Be my guests, please."

He gestured to six seats next to the one on the head of the low set table. They sat down on soft pillows and looked to their host. Baelor sat on his left, across from the Tattered Prince in rich silver silk. He himself wore a fine leather jacket with a three-headed dragon above the heart, a gift from Rhaella for his knighthood. Tatters turned to their host.

"While i enjoy the title 'prince of the mercenaries', i'm afraid i am only the prince of Tatters right now. And my young friend Baelor is rather called by his nickname. At least i think he is, as much effort as he's putting in to earn and keep it."

Baelor looked at tatters over the table. This was the first time he criticized Baelor's behaviour openly. He knew it was considered cruel, but the impaling was the best way to ensure a victory. When a bandit captain was killed, another rose in his place. If he was put to the stake and planted in the middle of his camp, the remaining outlaws would learn. If he learned one thing about life in his time with Aerys it was that it was better to be feared than to be fooled. He liked it to be feared and after all, they were criminals, or in the case of the myrish commander, traitors. 

"And what nickname might that be, young man?", one of the magisters asked.

"The Impaler", Caggo answered before Baelor could say anything.

"A gruesome one.", their host replied. 

"Please, i think we should change the subject, father.", a young man with silver hair said to the magister, "I fear he might take offense by the way he looks."

An old man at the table turned to Baelor. 

"Yes, he looks just like his grandfather who visited half a lifetime ago. He was my friend, you know?"

Baelor was surprised. Noone at court ever told him about Prince Aerion, apart from the gruesome way he died. All he heard was his nickname, Aerion the monstrous, when he eavesdropped on a conversation of his servants as a young boy.

"I would love to talk to you about him, if you would like magister.", he replied politely,"I hope we can find time later this evening."

The old man nodded, and the servants with the food came in. He digged into the delicious courses prepared by the kitchen slaves and sipped his wine. Baelor talked alot with the son of their host, while tatters spoke to the magisters about the war. The young man, Tragar, had similar interests to Baelor. Fighting, riding and hunting. After 10 courses the guests started to stand up and head out to the manse's gardens Baelor quickly excused himself and walked over to the old magister. They went out to a little terrace in the garden accompanied by the magisters son and grandson, along with Tragar who also wanted to hear about Aerion. The old man talked half an hour about how he and Aerion met and became friends, then he talked about some adventures in the city and on the island. This seemed to make him remember something.

"Aerions house. Your grandfather bought a house on the countryside while he lived here. It has to be empty for about fifty years by now, but legally it's your's."

Baelor thought about it. A house in Lys. noone ever mentioned any goods across the narrow sea to him, but it would be nice. He could maybe live here in this city. A city full of pleasure slaves and concubines would never look down on a bastard like Sadie. He could bring her here and they could live their lives as exiles, but together.

"Thank you. You know where it is?"

"I can show you the direction, but you have to go to Larane's bank first. Your grandfather set up an account there, you could lay a claim to it. Technically you would need to witnesses for your heritage, but my word as a magister should be sufficient."

************************

Baelor rode up the road trough the humid, hot forest. He had bought a horse first thing this morning and rode to the bank to meet the old magister. He had been inside the small vault filled with art, myrish tapestries and chests of clothes and coin and had found the key to his grandfathers manse. The magister told him which road to take at the city gates before he turned his palanquin around at was carried away. Baelor had ridden three hours, alone with his currently unnamed horse to which he currently told possible names.

"Hey girl, what do you think of 'Fire'? Yeah, pretty stupid since you are white, i know. I would call you 'Sadie', but i think she would freak out if she found out. I think it should be pretty, but not to long, you know what i mean? Like 'Rose'. Or 'Daisy'. What about 'Moon'? I always liked moonbloom, so it would fit. Yeah, Moon it is."

Said Moon simply trodded along the narrow road, never listening to her masters talk. They came out of the forest to a small  clearing beneath some huge rocks. In front of the rocks, there was a beautiful little villa, overgrown with bright flowers and green ranks. He dismounted amd led Moon to a overgrown walled garden where he took of her saddle and let her feed. He then turned to the house and walked towards the door which was wondrously free of plants. He tried the key on the door, but it wouldn't open so he looked around for another way in. He couldn't find one so he simply decided to break the door. Three strong kicks and the wood broke so he could sqeeze through. He stood in a room with little furniture, but many books and candles. Strange, because the magisters tales didn't make Aerion out to be a bookish one. He heard a crack behind him and spun around, axe raised high. On the gallery above him there stood a breathtaking young woman with silver hair, clad in a thin sleeping gown. She rumpled her hair with her hand and leaned forward on the railing.

"Who might you be to break into my home on a calm morning?", she said, amusement sparkling in her mismatched eyes.

 

 


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 of Baelors time in Essos and his return

Countryside, Isle of Lys, 271 AC

"Your Home? This was my grandfathers house.", Baelor said to the woman on the gallery. 

"Your grandfather?", she asked back, "What is your name young man?"

"I am Baelor Targaryen, Son of Maegor Targaryen, a prince of dragon's blood."

The woman threw her head back and started to laugh.

"What's so funny about that?", Baelor asked.

"Sorry, i just remember Maegor as a chubby little toddler on my lap and find it hard to believe he has a grown son."

"My father is dead for 14 years. You are at most 10 years older than me, how would you know him as a child?"

She started to walk down the stairs, Baelor lowered the axe and put it in his belt.

"You don't know who i am, right? Well, i suppose i don't look like your typical 90-year-old crone.", she said as she stepped closer,"I am Shiera, daughter of Serenei, of the very same dragon's blood like you."

"You claim to be Shiera Seastar?", Baelor asked incredulously.

"Yes, but you can call me great-great-great-aunt Shiera if you want.", she mocked him.

Baelor stepped back a few paces into the light that fell in from the broken door. Shiera followed, grabbed him by his beard and turned his head to both sides.

"You look a lot like Aerion, but he never had any scars as disfiguring as yours.", she said.

"And he disfigured his face willingly like you.", she added while tracing his tattoo with her fingers.

Baelor pulled his head back and grabbed her by the wrist. Shiera tried to grab his arm with her other hand just to get caught as well. She laughed and stepped back and he let her go. He looked at her more closely now. She had a beautiful heart-shaped face that reminded him of Queen Rhaella, but Shiera was taller and her breasts were bigger, in any case she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

"You're quick like Aerion.", she said and eyed him up and down, "But in your physique you remind me more of Maekar. You're just as tall, but maybe a little narrower."

"How are you here, in Lys, and not somewhere in the seven kingdoms.", he finally asked,"And why are you so..."

"Young? Gorgeous? I know what you think, i can see what you look at, boy.", she said, grinning.

Baelor muttered a curse and took off his vest to give it to her. She took it with a smile and put it on.

"In my defence, the shift is very thin.", he stammered. She laughed.

"Just like Maekar. He never liked me, but always stared at my tits."

"Well, but i think i am beginning to like you.", Baelor stated and began to grin himself.

"That's good. I had to live for so long without anyone, it feels good to see a friendly face again. I came here after Aegon ascended the throne, he made it clear after he sent Brynden to the wall that there would be no place for me in Westeros anymore. As for my looks, it's just a gift from mother nature to the women of my kin, that's al i'm saying."

Baelor thought about that. As far as he remembered King Aegon he always was a good and fair ruler. And how he always had time for the little boy with the dead father and the crazy mother.

"So you just decided to come to Lys and break into my grandfather's house?"

"No, i had a key and changed the lock. You kicked in the door."

Baelor knew she wouldn't answer any more of his questions, even though he probably had a thousand more. He looked around the room. A table with books, a table with food and piles of books on the ground was all it contained. There was also something that looked like a circle of glyphs painted on the floor, the rest of the room was dark.

"What are all these for?, he asked pointing to the books.

 

*************************************

 

Aerion Targaryen's house, Lys, 272 AC

Baelor walked through the forest, his spear in hand, a dead deer on his back. He had stayed with Shiera for almost half a year by now, he mostly looking to their food supplies, the house and cooking while Shiera slept mostly till afternoon and worked with her arcane books  well into the night. Baelor had tried to steal a peek but didn't understand a single word, it was written in High valyrian but with language twisted in such a way any sane person would freak out. Shiera however read them like it was nothing, sometimes eating at the same time or brushing her hair. He sometimes felt like the companion of a witch in the fairytales his mother sometimes read to him, doing his mistresses bidding and killing anyone who came to close to the house. In reality, it was far from that, Shiera often talked to him about her studies and they even went to Lys together once or twice when he was invited to the gatherings of the nobility. Shiera always posed as a lesser noble girl from the countryside Baelor courted and told laughingly him about the attempts of the young nobles to seduce her. The main subject of her studies was the culture of Valyria and the doom, she wanted to understand everything about it. Baelor had cleaned and repaired everything around the house by now, even building a little garden and a stable for moon and the horse he bought for Shiera. 

He reached the steps that lead down to the house from the woods and followed them. He had been on the hunt for three day for now and was impatient to finally have a bath again. He practically ran down to the house and opened the door. It was late at night so he was surprised to not see Shiera over her books. However the candles were burning and the remains of her food for three days ( He had discovered quickly Shiera was a very messy person) still stood at the table. He walked into Shieras Room on the upper floor and then to his room in the ground floor.  He couldn't find her so he ran to the stables calling her name. When he left the stables with two drowsy horses in them he noticed a light coming from their bathhouse.

Baelor jogged over there and froze in his tracks after he opened the door. Two young girls laid dead on the floor while Shiera was laying in a tub filled with blood. Her hair and head were completely covered with blood and her eyes were closed. He quickly stomped through the room and grabbed her hair to pull her up. She was scared as he pulled her to her feet and out of the tub.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!", he screamed at her angrily, "And who are these girls!"

Shiera fought and squirmed to get out of his grip.  

"Baelor stop, you're hurting me!", she screeched and he let her go.

They stood a few feet away from each other and tried to catch their breath.

"What is this?", Baelor finally spat out.

"A ritual."

"What kind of ritual would require you to kill two young girls and bathe in their blood?"

"The one to keep me young! And don't act like a holy man, Baelor  _the Impaler_. You would do this just to send a message to their father if he crossed you.", Shiera said, her voice full of venom,"We both are this kind of terrible monster in the eyes of the  _normal people_ , but we know the truth! It's simply what is necessary for us in this world, the strong have to prey on the weak to survive. We are dragons, for fucks sake! How many have you killed, huh? One, two, three or dozens? Or did you simply lose count? You are just as bad as i am, if not worse! You are in the darkness, alone, except for me."

Baelor stared at her, naked and covered in blood, her chest heaving and her eyes angry and pleading at the same time. _I have lost count_ , he realised and maybe he could never go back to being good. 

"If we are truly lost, Shiera, then damn this world and all the people in it!", Baelor said,"You and me, right here and now, that's the only thing that matters."

Shiera smiled and they jumped at each other, kissing and embracing, tongues wrestling for control. Shiera pulled his vest off of him and ripped his shirt. He lifted her up and pushed her against the wall. His lips moved to her neck and he could taste the blood on her. He saw a pile of clean clothes from the corner of his eye and carried her towards it. He let her fall down on it and tugged own his breeches before he followed her. Shiera smiled seductively and kissed him hungrily as he lowered himself down on her.

****************************************

Baelor woke up as he heard clothes rustling. He looked up to see Shiera pulling on his bloody and torn shirt along with his leather vest. The dead bodies were gone. She noticed him staring and smiled at him. Baelor grinned back.

"What do you think you're doing?", he asked.

"I was planning to go and get some water for washing from the house and maybe some clothes."

"No, no, no. I am the homeowner here and i demand you come back on this pile of clothes."

"I think my prince should catch me if he wants that."

Baelor laughed and jumped up, he then stormed forward to grab her but she quickly evaded him and ran aout the door. He nearly slipped on the blood as he turned and ran after her. He caught Shiera midway on the yard and turned her around. He then bent down to kiss her as someone behind him cleared his throat and he turned around to see Tywin Lannister standing there alongside ten guards.

"Prince Baelor", the hand of the king greeted him while he and the guards averted their gazes.

Baelor looked down at him and realised he was nude and covered in blood.

"I'm so sorry Lord Tywin. Please, allow us a moment to retreat to the house and put on something appropriate."

Inside the house he went to his room immediately. He wiped the blood off him with his blanket and put on some leather breeches and a clean white shirt. He looked for his boots and realised he had left them in the bathhouse. When he entered the main room, Shiera already waited.

"Who is that, Baelor?"

"Tywin Lannister, King Aerys' Hand. Worst sourpuss in the seven kingdoms by far."

She handed him his vest and followed him towards the door.

"No, your hair is still full of blood and Lord Tywin has a keen mind. He would notice something and the less he knows, the better."

Baelor left the house and walked towards Tywin. The lannister turned to greet him and held out his hand. Baelor took it in his own.

"My apologies if i interrupted something, Prince Baelor.", Lord Tywin said completely unapologetic.

"Not a problem. What brings you to Lys if i may ask.", Baelor said and led Tywin to a bench in the yard where they sat down.

"The king has sent me to settle a trade dispute because of pleasure slaves being sold to King's Landings brothels and told me to take you with me when i come back."

Baelor was really surprised.

"I didn't know anybody knew where i went. And who told you how to find this house?"

"We learned that you are in Lys from the captain of the ship that brought you here, your house was told to me by the magisters. They want to hold a feast in honor of the new tradedeal and your departure."

"Bloody hell, the essosi with their feasts. You would think they do nothing apart from drinking, dancing and eating."

"They surely are less diligent people than us westerosi."

"I have to think about it. Frankly, i don't want to depart and i have to consult someone before i decide. Where are you staying?"

"The manse of magister Aeros."

"Alright, i will come to you tomorrow morning and tell you my decision."

"There is nothing to decide. Aerys has ordered your return to the capital. It is openly known the princess of Dorne seeks a suitor for her daughter and i think Aerys wants to offer you."

"Really? Aerys could ask me before he did such things. We will meet tomorrow morning."

Baelor watched as Tywin left with his men before he shouted out a loud curse. He then kicked a bucket full of water into the flower patch and turned to the house. Shiera stood in the doorway, wearing a shirt of his and looked troubled.

"Why are you so angry?"

"He wants to take me back. Orders from Aerys, he said. Marry a dornish girl he said."

"Baelor, this might not be the best time to say it but i think you should go with him."

"And take you with me? We could marry as soon as we are of the boat and Aerys would do nothing, and i have a castle..."

"I don't want to marry you, Baelor, let me say that. I don't want to marry anyone. I have another reason, one more important for our house. Come in and i'll show you."

"Look Baelor, these are letters sent by Brynden Rivers, when he was Commander of the Night's watch. He claims many things in them, for example that he had dragon dreams at the wall. He wrote me about a dragon dying in a river, felled by a demon. He wrote about a child of three parents and about the long night. In his penultimate letter he states that he would go beyond the wall to retrieve something. I lost hope that another letter would come, but then a raven found me, bearing a small scroll. He just wrote "Beyond the wall. Can't get away. Send help. Only a dragon can help. House will die.". Baelor, i beg you, you have to go there and find whatever he was looking for. He wrote about a town called 'Hardhome' so you should start searching there i think."

Baelor was speechless. He simply wanted to stay here with her, not look for the bones of her former lover. Bloodraven went missing before he was born and most likely was killed by a wildling savage, his corpse eaten by his murderer most likely. But Shiera wouldn't allow him to stay if he refused and there was still the off chance he could avenge Rivers and salvage Dark Sister.

"I will go to Lord Tywin tomorrow.", he stated,"And i will find whatever he was looking for. But afterwards i will return to you, to our house and you will marry me."

Shiera simply nodded and moved over. She sat down on his lap and kissed him deeply.

*************************

Baelor held the bag full of his clothes, his weapons and a present Shiera had packed for him on his back as he entered the ship. His back still hurt after Shiera scratched it completely last night. After the feast he had returned to their home to say goodbye but somehow ended up spending the whole night there. He led Moon into the hold of the ship and joined Lord Tywin on deck.

"How long until we reach home?"

"A week, maybe two if the winds are bad. Anyway, who was that girl you chased, my prince, if i may ask."

Baelor turned to Lord Tywin, his face unreadable, his pale purple eyes as cold as stone.

"So sorry, Lord Tywin, but you may not. And nobody in the capital shall hear of her, alright?"

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baelor returns to the seven kingdoms.

The Red Keep, 272 AC

He entered the throneroom  behind Lord Tywin. Baelor noticed people staring at him and whispering to each other. He couldn't blame them, with his tattoos and his sloppy attire he looked more like a mercenary or pirate rather than a prince. He wore his riding boots, wide red pants, a black shirt, his vest and belt along with Shiera's parting gift, a silken shawl of silver color. Aerys sat high on his throne, Rhaegar on a humble chair at it's foot. The Queen was nowhere to be seen, but Lord Tywin told him about her recent miscarriages during his time abroad. He walked to the foot of the throne, bowing before the throne.

"I am back, my king. Prince Rhaegar."

Aerys smiled and stood up while Rhaegar walked forward and hugged him firmly. Baelor patted his back and stepped back to look at him. For a twelve-year-old Rhaegar looked quite strong though he still had this warm look in his indigo eyes. He turned left to embrace King Aerys. The King looked older than his 28 years but that was to be expected if a father lost so many children during  his life. Baelor had  seen the absolute joy in Aerys eyes when Rhaella announced an pregnancy twice. Five years ago Baelor had been with the king when they received the news of Rhaegars stillborn sister. The man he looked up to most apart from maybe the kingsguards and the great Targaryens of  the past had broken down in tears before his eyes. 

"Baelor, cousin, you have returned."

Aerys turned around to the assembled nobility.

"My Ladys, my Lords, i have to ask you to leave me alone with my kin and my hand, the court will come together tomorrow at midday."

The mass of men and women clad in silk went out at the king's words, most likely to spent their time in the gardens. The four men were left in the room alone with three kingsguards who remained silent and still like statues. Aerys looked at him intently and smiled when he saw the red dragon that started just above his ear.

"What a splendid way to show who you are. And you have even grown a beard."

"What have you been doing in Essos, Baelor?", Rhaegar asked him.

"I joined with a mercenary company, the Windblown. Haven't they told you?", Baelor answered while looking at Tywin.

The Hand of the King clenched his teeth.

"I thought it was hardly fitting for the crown prince to hear about his kin's reputation as a torturer and executioner."

Baelor glared at the Lord of Casterly Rock.

"What reputation does he mean, Baelor?", Aerys asked.

"I am called 'Baelor the Impaler' in the Disputed Lands. I don't think a man who even has a song like the 'Rains' written about him can judge me for handling treason in a violent way."

Rhaegar looked at him with an unreadable expression while Tywin had anger in his eyes and Aerys smiled benevolently.

"It seems you have grown into a man my boy."

 

*********************************

 

The music became louder after the eating part of the feast had stopped. Many of the young lords and knights dragged their ladies on the floor behind them and started to dance. Baelor looked to his left where Rhaegar sat looking at his music notes for his harp. The young boy didn't seem to notice the looks he received from the ladies of the court. Some of the ladies even looked at him for a moment but all looked away when he turned at them. He didn't care, compared to his Shiera every noble maid present looked like a sow in silk. He continued to drink and scanned the crowd for familiar faces. He couldn't see Beth, Tytos or Quenten anywhere but was able to spot a familiar mane of black hair on a table with other noblewomen from the reach. Sadie sat at the far end of the table, back to him, closer to the doors of the hall than the place fitting for a daughter of Lord Hightower. Baelor could see several young men, mostly squires and young knights looking at her, some even standing around by her table. He grabbed another goblet filled with good dornish red and made his way over. As he approached the table he could see the pair across from her standing up and walking to the dance floor. He quickly sat down across his best friend and flashed her his best smile.

"Sadie. I am glad to see you again."

She looked at him in surprise but smiled back after a second. 

"Baelor. I am sorry we couldn't speak this afternoon but the king sent all of  us out before i could approach you."

"Yes, he kept me occupied all afternoon. I think he really missed me. Anyway, how have you fared since i was gone? Anything new, apart from the growing number of your admirers?", he asked, motioning to the young men he caught gawking a moment ago.

Sadie turned around and laughed at the young men who had failed to turn away when Baelor pointed at them.

"They are no harm. Not much has happened with me since you left, but how about you? I like your dragon, by the way."

"Thanks. I have some others too. I have fought a bit, hunted and earned a bit of money. Nothing special, just gaining some experiences.", he lied. He knew Sadie wouldn't believe him if he told her about Shiera, it was her one fault. Sadie didn't believe in anything, no gods, no magic and no wonders.

"Your scars look different."

Baelor snorted.

"I only have gotten some more."

He grabbed his long hair and pulled it back with his hands. He heard a little gasp to his left. He turned to a little 14 year old girl next to a boy with a golden rose on his chest who seemed a bit older. They both looked at him with big eyes. To unused eyes his scars must look shocking, while he would have been handsome normally a broken cheekbone, a broken nose and dozens of smaller and bigger cuts had certainly taken that away from him. He laughed a cruel laugh and put the hair back over his scars.

"Baelor, you know i didn't want to taunt you."

"I know. I just like to scare the kids."

"You didn't change a single bit. Care for a dance?"

 _Not a single bit?_ , Baelor thought bitterly.  _Just wait until someone learns of my nickname and spreads it._ He nodded and took Sadie by the hand.

 

***********************

 

They had danced for most of the last hour and finally decided to get a breath of air. Baelor asked her what had happened to the rest of their group.

"Betha has returned to the barrowlands, Marsh is still in the great sept, Tytos was knighted and left for Raventree and Quentyn ascended to his lordship."

"So we will need to ride through the riverlands, the west and the north?"

"Why would we do that."

"I am planning an expedition. I need you all with me to accomplish it."

"You could ask."

"I don't need to. I know none of you would want to stay behind.", Baelor said grinning.

"What kind of expedition?"

"The kind for the songs."

 

******************

 

Banefort, 272 AC, two moons later

They rode towards the many towered castle on the horizon. The Banefort was situated by the seaside, on a high cliff. The whole structure was dark and looked very instable, but according to history it has looked like that for the last five hundred years. Darker than the night surrounding it, the castle seemed like a abyss in front of them. They rode the narrow path up to the castle and could hear the waves breaking underneath them. Baelor looked back to his companions. Marsh had been given a brown palfrey from the castle stables while Tytos rode his own destrier and Sadie rode her first own horse, his little moon from Lys. 

They rode through the small gate, just broad enough for a carriage, just high enough for a rider to keep his head raised. The gate looked almost like the open mouth of a man in the flickering torchlight from above. They passed into the castle, followed by the watchful eyes of the guards. The Banefort was a relatively small castle at the foundation but it possessed many towers that reached into the sky like daggers. The walls looked like they were worked out of the dark grey stones, no gaps between them, just a smooth wall. The pillars and corners were worked differently however, they were fashioned into Gargoyles and screaming faces, the torch holders made like stone claws. The Banefort really could terrify even a grown man. They handed their horses to a groom and walked up the spiralling staircases to the hall. It was no huge hall to fit a hundred men, the hall of Banefort would barely fit 40 men if they were squeezed really tight. The moon shone through the dark stained glass windows. Quenten sat on the ancient seat of his house. He rose to his feet when they were led in.

"My friends, welcome to my humble home!"

A serving girl brought bread and salt. Sadie took some first, then Baelor took a bite and walked forward to embrace his friend. Quenten was pale, tall and thin. He had a finely sculptured face, clean-shaven with long dark brown hair. He wore a grey doublet under a black hood, his sigil proudly on his chest.

"Baelor, you have changed. You have become even more ugly."

Baelor laughed.

"Well my friend, Tytos is smart, Sadie is pretty, Beth can fight, Marsh can drink and i can scare everything away with only my face. Only you lack a talent."

The friends chuckled together. Quenten led them out of the hall into his solar. They sat down at the table and were served wine and hot stew.

"So friends, what is this thing Baelor has planned with us?"

Sadie cleared her throat.

"Baelor thinks he could track Bloodravens ranging party. He wants to find his bones and sword and put them to rest in Kings Landing."

"Where?"

"Hardhome. A town beyond the wall."

"Beyond the wall? Aren't there like wildlings living there?"

"We won't wear black. We'll pose like wildlings ourselves to fool them."

"You are crazy. And none of you questioned him? You all are in this too?"

The friends looked at Quenten. He studied their faces closely and closed his eyes.

"Fuck it. I don't want to be known as the milksop when you tell your story. Count me in."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My depiction of the Banefort is inspired by King Haggard's Castle from the Last Unicorn. I loved that movie ever since i was four and if you haven't seen it i suggest you do.


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The expedition beyond the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I just have written a 14 page essay about aviation history for shool and had no time for anything else. Also i will try to post longer chapters from now on, that will take me more time to write. Also, because someone has asked me in a mail: Baelor isn't a unbeatable fighting machine like Arthur Dayne, Jon Snow, Drogo, Jaime or Brienne. He's good, but is more on one tier with Jorah, Rhaegar, the hound or the younger two Tyrells. To his looks: He is considered to be a bit ugly by most due to his scars, but some girls would like that on him. His left cheekbone was broken and he has a aqiline nose that has been broken twice. He is tall and broad, strong, but not as strong as Maekar. All things considered he is a talented fighter and looks rugged and dangerous, like a mercenary or an outlaw, not like the prince little ladies dream of.

Hardhome, 273 AC

Hardhome was a shithole. This was the first thought that came to his mind when they entered the little settlement through the southern palisade. They had wandered north from Eastwatch-by-the-sea for three weeks now and finally reached their destination. The houses were broken and ruined, the only people present were a few hunters who claimed the other inhabitants lived in the caves of the giant cliff above the bay. They thanked the men and walked up to the only cave entrance the people hadn't blocked with snow and wood.

Warm torchlight fell out of the cave before a sentry stepped in their way.

"Who are you and  what do you want from us?"

Baelor pushed back his heavy fur hood.

"Raiders. We have hunted some crow rangers in the south. My name is Bael."

"What do you want?"

Quenten stepped in.

"We want to trade our loot for food."

The man nodded.

"Come in. It's a cold night."

They walked inside the cavern, welcoming the warmth. Baelor looked at the guard now that he was in the light. He looked like a honest man, he even handed them a piece of bread and a cup of ale. 

"Just let me get the chief. You get your goods out."

They put out the few axes and chainmail shirts they had brought from south of the wall. Good, castleforged steel would ensure the trust of the wildlings. They were planning to trade it for information, some of the elders might still remember Bloodravens trip to Hardhome and could tell him where he went afterwards. The Maester at Eastwatch had shown him the recording, it stated that Brynden had left with 6 of his Raven's Teeth, men that had joined the watch with him when he was exiled by King Aegon. 

The sentry came back with five more men and his chief, a tall bearded man clad in exquisite seal skins. The men were only armed with bronze or stone weapons and eyed the trade goods greedily.

The chief picked up a shirt of chainmail.

"What do you want for this?"

Now it was time for their mummery.

"We want to know something. One of the crows has told the others a tale when we snuck up to them. He spoke about a King of the crows that wandered to Hardhome some twenty years ago. When i tortured him he told me the man owned a magic sword that noone has found since then. I want it."

The man looked at him.

"I remember that. I was only a boy when the crow-king came but one of our elders lead him into the woods. He might be able to tell you something. We'll take the weapons and give you food for the travel."

 

*******************************

 

The Haunted Forest, 273 AC, 6 months later

He hid behind a tree while Tytos drew his bow. They had tracked this deer for two days now. Hunting beyond the wall wasn't as fruitful as he would have expected. The game was scarce and the hunters were many. They had only eaten roots, rabbits and some small game for the last three months. They had went to this mountain the old man told him about, the Fist as it was called but they didn't find anything. Because the group didn't know what to do they followed the milkwater north to it's origin, then turned and wandered the northern parts of the forests. By now the friends had reached the Antler River and didn't know what to do now. His friends were desperate, they didn't have a will to stay in the north anymore. Marsh had openly talked about leaving twice and Quenten agreed with him. Baelor however didn't want to return, he would find Bloodraven or die up here.

Tytos took the shot and the deer fell, an arrow through his neck. Baelor patted his friend on the shoulder and they picked up the carcass. The deer was heavy, enough meat for about 5 days. Their camp was made up of a little hut made up of fallen trees and leaves, a little creek  next to it and a makeshift fire before the shelter. Baelor hung the deer on a low tree branch and opened it's throat to let it bleed out.

When he entered the little hut everybody went silent. Quent and Marsh had just spoken and the others had listened.

"Don't stop because of me. What have you been saying?"

Quenten went red.

"Umm, just how great it is to get some fresh deer."

Baelor looked at the others intently. Marsh and Beth looked away while Ty had his eyes closed and Quent fumbled with his boots. Only Sadie looked straight at him.

"Come on guys, you can tell him he's not his cousin."

"Tell me what?"

"This search. It was a mistake, destined to failed from the beginning.", Beth said.

"I know it has taken some time but..."

"No 'but', Baelor. We have less clues then when we started and the winter is getting worse."

"Come on, you wouldn't want to go back and be told off by me afterwards?"

"What do you mean?"

"I will stay here, if necessary forever, if necessary alone."

"Don't say that. This ain't one of your cousins fake stories where a Targaryen prince takes on a entire army and wins. You will simply freeze or starve to death if you don't get killed!"

"FUCK YOU!", Baelor shouted and threw a cup in Quentens face.

Ty looked at him with great disgust.

"Now we can see how you treat your friends. I am going, if you want to stay fine."

 

*****************************

 

The next morning Baelor woke up alone. He turned around, his friends had left and had only left his bag with food, his axe and a bow with five arrows. He quickly stood up and walked out. Noone was to be seen. 

"Fuck those sons of bitches", he muttered under his breath. 

They had said they would leave, but didn't specify they would sneak off in the night. He pulled on his fur coat and shouldered his equipment. Then he proceeded to kick the  shelter down. He cursed viciously and hacked at it with his axe until it broke down completely.

"You act like a spurned maiden.", he heard a female voice behind him.

Sadie stood there, her bag hanging at her side. She smiled at him mockingly.

"Come on, we have to move on to find that sword of yours."

He walked to her and hugged her tightly.

"I knew i had at least one real friend."

 

************************************

 

The Haunted Forest, 274 AC

The cold was worse than ever before this evening. Their breath was white before them as they dragged on through the snow flying around them. They were caught in a blizzard.

Baelor and Sadie moved on for several hours. He could feel how his strength left him as they worked their way through the snow. 

"Look!", Sadie screamed before him. 

Baelor looked up. Before them there was a huge looming structure. He moved up to it after Sadie and noticed that there were rocks were standing in a strange spiral pattern around what seemed to be a huge, dead weirwood tree. Strangely, as soon as they entered the circle now snow fell any more, the wind ceased blowing but the cold remained, it seemed to get even worse. 

"Sadie? Do you know what this is?"

His friend simply turned back to him and shook her head. He could see she was frightened, her lips trembled and her eyes were wide open. Suddenly he was distracted by a movement behind her, by the weirwood.

A figure rose from a rock at it's foot, just as white as the bark behind it.  It looked like a tall, gaunt, human-like creature, but no human could move that fast. No human would have a face that symmetrical and flawless. No human could have eyes in that kind of shining dark blue. It lifted his arm in a fluid movement and held something that looked like a sword of glass. Baelor ripped his axe from his belt.

"Sadie!", he shouted.

The young woman turned around and instantly gripped her spear before her and moved back a few paces. The creature now looked at Baelor, and his emotionless face changed into a grimace that reminded him of anger. It moved fastly towards Sadie and screamed a high pitched scream, sounding like breaking ice. Sadie thrusted at it with her spear but it avoided two thrusts before gripping the spear with his left hand. It held it for a moment before the weapon simply exploded into dust.

Baelor couldn't think as the thing grabbed Sadie by the throat and lifted her up. He simply threw his axe at it with full force. It flew fastly, right into the creatures face. the axe was forged from qohorik steel, the best you could get your hands on, but it simply broke when it hit the fiend. The creature turned to him again and moved towards him. He searched for another weapon at his belt but could find none. 

"Fuck it!", he screamed and charged at the monster with bare hands. It didn't even bother to use it's sword, it simply kicked him in the side. The sheer force of the kick sent him flying to the side, crashing his back against a menhir. The air left his lungs as he heard it laughing a cackling laugh at him. He looked up and saw it pressing on Sadies throat harder until it broke with a sickening crunch.

"NO!", he screamed, tears flowing out of his eyes. 

Baelor forced himself to stand up and look at his foe. The murderer looked at him, his eyes glowing with... _amusement_ _?_  

"Come on you son of a whore, bring it on.", he spat out, his knees trembling, fists lifted, nearly choking on his tongue.

The creature just looked at him, weighing it's head back and forth. Then it charged, no  _jumped,_ at him with a hellish twist. He was able to evade it's blade and get on the other side. He ran for Sadie's body because she still had her dagger at her belt. He heard the beast screeching behind him and turned back around. It walked at him, menacingly slow, blade hanging at it's side. He ran at it and slashed at it with his dagger. It evaded the hits and dealt him another kick, sending him to the ground. It stood before him, he tried to get up, but his strength failed him and he only managed to kneel before it like before a executioner. It grabbed his heavy fur hood and turned his head to look at him. He saw it raising it's sword over it's head as it spoke a few words in it's language. He forced himself to look in it's eyes and shivered involuntarily at the coldness of the deep blue in them.  _Shiera, i won't come back,_ he thought. 

Suddenly he heard a piercing sound and saw a black arrowhead sticking out of the beasts chest. It sank to it's knees and grabbed him by the shoulders with both hands. It looked into his eyes with an unreadable expression. He reactivated his last reserves and jumped up to his feet, kicking the creature in the face with his knee. it collapsed backwards and broke to shards. He looked up and saw a man clad in black standing there, a moose behind him and a flock of ravens behind it. Baelor staggered a few steps in his direction but fell to his knees a few paces before the man. The ranger caught him before he could fall down.

"Easy, young prince. My master wants to see you."

 

*************************************

 

There were roots above him. White roots, large and thick. He heard whispering and rustling of leaves. He turned on his side.

"Water, please.", Baelor croaked.

Someone handed him a bowl and he set it to his lips. It was a thick liquid which he immediately recognised as blood. It had a strange taste to it, not like the blood a soldier would occasionally taste in battle. He still drank it to the last drop. He then handed the bowl back to a little person with brown, spotted skin.

"Who are you? Are you the master the ranger talked about?"

"No.", it responded with a strange voice.

"Where is he?"

"No. He says you are the wrong dragon, all rage and fire, no ice at all."

The small creature shoved a long package into his arms. 

"He says you came for this. Take it to the right dragon."

"What? I came here, i want to see him, i...", he began as his voice failed him.

He looked at the little one with big eyes.

"He said to put you in a trance. He will tell it all to you. Then we take you away from here."

Baelor wanted to raise up, but he only managed to fall down... 

...when he felt his face hitting soft, green grass. He rose to his feet and saw a man clad in black looking down on him. He looked at him and jumped.

The man was an albino, one eyed with a big birthmark on his neck. His red eye looked at Baelor suspiciously. He looked around and saw that they were standing before a high hill covered with white trees.

"You look a lot like Maekar and Aerion. Not much of Daeron in you."

"Bloodraven?"

"Yes, it's me, Brynden. I assume Shiera sent you?"

"Yes, she-, we-, i-..."

"I know. I've seen it in your memories, boy. She still looks beautiful."

"I'm sorry..."

"No, you are not. I don't blame you, no man could resist her. I envy you, that's all."

"The sword."

"Ah, yes, Dark Sister. Did Leaf give it to you? You need to take it to King's Landing. The Prince who was promised will need a worthy blade."

"Who is this Prince?"

"Azor Ahai. The last hero. He is not born yet. He will be Prince Rhaegar's true heir. One part of two."

"One of two? What does that mean?"

The man started to fade back into the trees behind him.

"Two hearts that will beat as one."

"NO! Stay, i have so much more to ask you!"

"I can't. A symbiosis takes it's toll on both parts. I  have to go."

 

**********************************

 

Baelor woke up, worse then ever before. his head ached, his legs felt as if he had walked for a whole week. What a strange dream he had the last night. He looked to the package next to him. It was a black cloak, wrapped around a sword belt with a beautiful valyrian steel sword, the handle made of dragon bone and gold ornaments and a matching valyrian steel dagger with a dragon bone handle, crested with gold. He put on the black leather belt and the cloak before he scanned his surroundings. He stood at the edge of the forest, the wall before him. The sun rose to his right and a gate was in front of him. He practically ran up to it, waving his arms in the air. A long horn signal came from the top of the wall and the gate opened a bit. Five men clad in black stepped out of it, holding torches and swords.

"Who are you and what do you want?"

"I am Baelor Targaryen, prince of the seven kingdoms."

He pulled back his hood to show them his dragon tattoo.

"Take him to Maester Aemon."

"Aemon? Where am i?"

"You are at castle black, my prince."

The men led them to the rookery. The soldiers looked at him with great interest. They had heard stories from Eastwatch, about the prince that had left for the north to find a magic sword. No he came back, long silvery hair, a scarred face and clothes like a wildling, but the magnificent sword at his hip.

"If i may ask, how did you find it?"

Baelor thought for a brief moment. He couldn't tell them the truth, they wouldn't believe him.

"A wildling chief had it. He boasted to have killed a 'crow king' and that he drank his mead out of his skull. I killed him in combat to avenge Lord Rivers and buried the head.", he lied effortlessly.

"A gruesome tale. But it's good that you avanged him. He deserved it."

"Thank you."

He walked into the maester's room. The shelves were high and heavily loaded with ancient books. At a desk below them sat a old man clad in black robes.

"Who is it? I can't see that well, come closer."

Baelor walked to the old man and knelt before him.

"My name is Baelor Targaryen. You are my granduncle."

"Ba-, Baelor? Vaella's and Maegor's boy? My brother wrote about you. He really liked you after he took you in."

"I don't remember much before summerhall. Regrettably King Aegon is but a shadow in my memories."

"Yes, i always forget it has been 15 years. But you, you look just like my father. Similar face, same eyes, a little bit narrower."

Baelor chuckled.

"Everybody who has known him says so, but most add that i am uglier."

The old man joined him in his laughter.

"I told you, i can't see that good anymore. What are you doing at the wall? Joining?"

"No, i don't have that kind of conviction. I came to search Dark Sister and Lord Bryndens remains."

"And, did you find it?"

"Aye. I avenged him and took the blade. I think i will gift it to the crown prince."

"Fine. Come on, you have to stay at least a few days before you go back south."

 

************************************

 

Winterfell, 274 AC, Four weeks later

The feast for young Brandon's nameday was outstanding, but very loud. Baelor had to sneek out, his head started spinning from the terribly strong beverages that the northmen enjoyed. He grabbed a bowl of apples from one of the tables and went in the direction of the castle stables. He heard the northmen continue partying, but didn't pay them much mind. He wanted to treat Syrax and Moon with a few apples, the journey from castle black had taken their toll on them. Baelor had ridden two weeks and only had rested five hours at most to return to Shiera and take her home as his wife. But Lord Rickard had held him up because of his sons nameday. He saw torchlight flowing from the stables and took a peek inside. The younger Stark's were rustling about in there with his horses, the boy just looking at them while the girl tried to put his saddle on Syrax. Baelor was surprised how a little girl could even lift it, the saddle was a big thing made of durable, heavy leather studded with steel rivets.

"Benjen, help me, don't be a little girl!", the girl said in the cutest northern accent he ever heard

"But the prince will be mad Lya!"

"Shut up!"

Baelor couldn't stifle his laughter at that, the little lady, thin as a stick, cursing around. The children looked to the door where he stood in shock.

"S-Sorry, Prince Baelor, it wasn't my idea...", the boy began when the girl kicked him in the shin.

"No problem kids. But you won't get that saddle on Syrax, she's to tall for you."

Baelor then proceeded to take the saddle from the girl and put it on the holder.

"Who of you is the better rider?"

"I am.", Lyanna declared proudly.

"Alright, then come here."

He lifted the eight-year-old on Moon's back, then put the little boy on Syrax's.

"They know to walk without curb, but take it slow for now. Only in the courtyard."

"But we have to be in bed already!"

"I'm sure Lord Stark will see it my way."

The kids laughed and steered the horses into the courtyard. They made a few slow circles before the girl decided to go into a faster trot.

"Alright,but not faster! I don't want you to get hurt!", he shouted after her.

The girl didn't seem to hear him, she drove the mare into a fast Race-gallop.

"No, hold! Syrax, Moon, here!"

Syrax came back to her master at that while the younger steed did't seem to hear him.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Baelor turned. Lord Stark stood there with his heir and a many guests. Baelor went red instantly. The girl finally seemed to come to her senses, she turned the horse around and came to her father. He braced himself for a scolding by Lord Stark, but the Warden of the North simply started to laugh.

"By the gods, why did they punish me with a pack of wolves instead of kids!"

The whole courtyard broke out in laughter. Baelor joined in and walked up to Lord Stark.

"This horse has belonged to me for three years and never has she ignored a order from me. I think the beast has only now found her true match. Your girl can keep Moon."

"Prince Baelor, this is most generous of you. Lyanna, thank the prince."

"Thank you Prince Baelor. She is the best horse i have ever ridden. What breed is she?"

"An old valyrian thoroughbred. Look at her purple eyes, they look just like their breeders. The rarest breed in the world."

"I thank you. She is the most beautiful horse i have ever seen."

"Yes, she is magnificent. And the deep indigo  goes well with your grey eyes.", Baelor answered.

 


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part I of the years before the rebellion.

 Lys, 274 AC

Baelor rode Syrax through the dense forest leading up to his house. He had skipped King's Landing and went directly from White Harbour to the free cities to take Shiera home with him. The house came into sight, lights from the house fell onto the yard. He tied Syrax to the pole before the door and cut off some flowers from the flower patch. He then knocked on the door.

"Who is it?", a man's voice called from the inside.

 _Who the hell is that?,_  Baelor thought. When noone opened he rammed his shoulder into the door which broke in. He heard a child screaming and looked at the scene before him. A middle-aged lysene stood before him, a dagger in his hand. Behind him at the sparsely filled table sat a brown haired women and four small children. When the man moved towards him Baelor drew Dark Sister and pointed it at him.

"Who the fuck are you? And where is Shiera?", Baelor spat out.

"This is my house! I bought it two months ago!", the man shouted while staggering backwards.

"Who sold you my house? And where is the woman who lived here!"

"A young woman! Said it was her dead father's house and that she couldn't stay!", the woman at the table cried out.

Baelor lowered his sword and leaned onto the doorframe. He felt a familiar pain in his chest.

He remembered.

His mothers screams as she died. She couldn't care for him due to the state of her mind but he had loved her nonetheless.

Sadie telling him she didn't love him.

Sadie dying in the snow at the hands of what he only remembered to be a monster.

Hearing that Shiera left him and stole his house.

"No.", was all he could mutter.

"What do you mean, 'no'?"

"I loved her. This was my house. Where did she go?"

"We don't know. She only took the money and left."

Baelor looked at the family. The children had tears in their eyes. Suddenly he felt ashamed.

"Please allow me to sleep in the stables.", he said,"Then i'll help you to fix the door tomorrow before i leave."

The man looked at him for a moment, then nodded.

"Alright. I trust you know where the stables are?"

 

*****************************

 

Baelor crawled out of the hay. He hadn't gotten much sleep, he had been up most of the night thinking. At first he thought where Shiera went and how he could find her. Then he thought that she wouldn't want to be found, before he concluded it was for the best because he could never trust her again.

The man already stood on the yard with a farmhand. Baelor walked over to them.

"There you are. Come on and help us get some wood from the stock to build a new door."

They started to saw the wood into size, the father, Tregar, asked Baelor questions about himself.

"So, you are what? A sailor or a mercenary?"

"I was a mercenary. Now i am...unoccupied."

"Who are you? You are westerosi, are you a exile?"

"No. I am actually a prince. My name is Baelor Targaryen."

The men chuckled.

"And you are helping us to repair my door?"

"I did it once before. When i moved in the key wouldn't fit."

They looked at him strangely before they started to laugh again. At first he didn't know if he should feel offended but he realised that there was no malice in their laughter. They laughed on until the new door was finished.

 

************************

 

His vault had been emptied completely. The money, the tapestries and all the other valuables had been taken away. He could only blame himself, why the hell did he allow Shiera access to his bank vault? He noticed a little wooden chest on the ground in the corner. It contained a small scroll and a black piece of cloth. 

_Baelor,_

_i can't give you what you need._

_Take this and be happy with another girl._

_-S_

He unfolded the cloth. It was a wedding cloak, black with a red dragon on it. He took it in his hands and smelled it. It still held her scent, this faint memory of old books and roses that he had loved so much. His first impulse was to burn it, but he couldn't bring himself to it. Then he had an idea.

 

****************************

 

King's Landing, 275 AC

"You can keep the sword to yourself Baelor. After all you have found it.", Rhaegar said.

They stood on the dock. Baelor had just disembarked the galley that brought him from Lys. He had immediately got to his knees and offered Dark Sister to the crown prince.

"Then please, at least take the dagger. I have missed your nameday after all."

Rhaegar smiled his sad smile. 

"I see i can't persuade you to stop."

"How are your parents?"

"In good hope."

"Rhaella is pregnant again?"

"Yes. My father has forbidden her from leaving the keep this time."

They rode through the city, up to the keep. The smallfolk cheered for both of them, but for every call of 'Baelor' there were 10 calls for Rhaegar.

"It seems that someone is the champion of the people."

Rhaegar chuckled. 

"Yes, after my nameday i started to visit the poorer districts. Play the harp for them."

"What did Aerys think about that?"

"He doesn't like it. But i am a grown man, and Lord of Dragonstone too."

"Oh, yes i forgot. when do you leave?"

"Not yet. I will have to get married first."

"Didn't find the right one yet?", Baelor asked and gave him a sly grin.

"What about you?", Rhaegar asked, mimicking Baelor's expression.

Baelor felt a pang in his chest.

"N-no.", he stuttered, "I thought i had found someone but..."

He thought hard about it. It would be no good to tell Rhaegar about Shiera and his experiences beyond the wall. The young man already had enough nonsense in his head, he didn't need magic in the mix.

"Sadie died north of the wall. A wildling killed her. The strongest fighter i have ever seen."

Rhaegar looked at him with pity in his dark eyes.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have meddled."

"Not a problem. I pestered you first."

 

**********************************

 

Rhaella Targaryen, The King's Solar, The Red Keep

Rhaella looked up from her needlework as the servants brought in the refreshments. Aerys looked at them suspiciously and his foodtaster came forth. The man was called Wat but he was only called 'Jellybelly' since Baelor called him that as a little boy. They were waiting for Rhaegar to return with Baelor from the docks, her son riding out to the docks every day since he received a letter from Maester Aemon at the wall. Rhaella was curious. She didn't have much chance to talk with Baelor when he returned from Essos because the boy had stormed off to the wall a fortnight after his arrival and she had been confined to her chambers by her husband. She was told that the boy had only left her a gift by her bedside when she was asleep before he left. It had been a silver bracelet in the shape of a dragon that bit his own tail. She wore it today to show him she appreciated it.

A kingsguard opened the door.

"They are here."

In walked her son and a tall, young man with broad shoulders and a short beard. He looked stern and focused, the left half of his face was covered in many scars, but he combed the hair over it.  _Gods, that boy has become handsome,_ was the first thought to come to her mind. She wanted to stand up to hug the boy, but Aerys shoved her back. He instead stood up and embraced Baelor.

"Cousin. It has been to long."

"My king.", Baelor said in a deep and dark voice.

The young man walked over to her and bowed to embrace her on her chair.

"My queen. Rhae has told me of your condition."

Baelor sat himself on the chair across from her. He then put a slender longsword on the table before them. Aerys eyes went wide.

"Is that?"

"Yes. It is Dark Sister. A sword fitting for a king."

"Oh no my boy. You can keep it for yourself, you have found it after all.", Rhaella cut in before Aerys could say anything.

Baelor flashed her a smile before putting the sword in it's scabbard. She noticed how the left side of his face couldn't join the smile, the scars leaving it paralyzed.  Aerys didn't do anything but casting her a short angry look. But, for all his paranoia, the king trusted Baelor completely. He had raised the boy for 6 years after all and had spent more time with him than her or Rhaegar in this time.

"Thank you cousin. I hope we can finally catch up now. We haven't properly talked for five years after all."

********************************************

Baelor Targaryen, Lannisport, 276 AC

He stood next to Rhaegar and young Ser Arthur in the great hall of Casterly Rock. King Aerys greeted his hand and his children first whiile they stood back. He shifted uncomfortably in his new plate armor. It was the same as Rhaegar's, fine black steel, but Baelor had declined the rubies in the chestplate. The armor was truly splendid, but Baelor simply couldn't stand wearing heavy armor. He preferred his vest or a leather tunic, even in heavy battles he only wore chainmail and a jerkin. 

He looked at the children standing behind their father. There where only two ten-year-olds, the younger son wasn't present. Baelor had heard rumors, the child was crippled and misshapen, a dwarf with a monkeys tail. The boy looked at him and Rhaegar for a short moment befor turning his whole attention to the kingsguards behind them. The girl however couldn't take her eyes of the crown prince. Baelor nudged Arthur and nodded his head in her direction. The sword of the morning grinned and Baelor started to chuckle. Rhaegar turned his head a bit to look at him.

"Don't be cruel my friend, she is only a small girl."

"And in case you have forgotten, some Targaryens are actually handsome.", Arthur added with a sly grin.

Baelor smiled at his friends.

"Even if she grows up like her mother, Rhae will always be prettier than her."

They couldn't continue their conversation however, the king called them forward. 

"Crown Prince Rhaegar of the Seven Kingdoms.", the herald announced, "And his cousin, Prince Baelor Targaryen."

He made a small bow to the Lord of the West.

"Lord Tywin, good to meet you again. Your home is truly beautiful."

"Thank you my prince. May i introduce my children? This here is Jaime, my son and heir. This is Cersei, my daughter."

The young men shook hands with the lad and greeted the little lady. The hand turned back to speek with the king and begin the tournament. Rhaegar walked off behind his father. Baelor wanted to look out for Arthur when someone pulled at his hand. He turned. The children stood behind him and looked at him with big eyes.

"Does that wash off?", the boy burst out.

"No, it is under my skin actually."

The boy looked at him increduously as the girl thrusted her elbow in his side.

"Jaime! Father said we shouldn't bother Prince Baelor!"

"It is no bother little lady."

"Will you ride in the joust tomorrow?"

"No, i am a hopeless case for jousting i'm afraid. But i will fight in the melee today."

"I am sure you will win my prince.", the girl said politely.

"But he's no kingsgu....", the boy began before getting another elbow.

 

*******************************

 

Arthur handed him his heavy mace as he watched the other men get ready for the melee. The fight was to be held in the new way, two teams fighting each other until one yielded or was defeated. Across the battleground the western knights got ready themselves to defend their homelands honor. Their group was made up of fighters from the Reach, the Crownlands and the Riverlands. Baelor had tried to draw up a plan to defeat the westerners but the heir to Highgarden had demanded command, because most of the fighters were of the Reach. Mace Tyrell was a handsome, sturdy, self confident twenty year old who Baelor already thought a bit of an oaf. The boy always casted looks to his pregnant wife, who held their firstborn, a boy of three in her lap.

"What do you think, Art?"

"This blade is shit. To heavy and brittle.", said the young man while he weighed a tourney-greatsword in his hands.

"If we fought with Dawn and Dark Sister we would kill them all.", Baelor said.

Arthur was the most lethal swordsman he had ever seen, but the lad was extremely picky in his choice of weapons. He had no need for any weapon of course, Arthur had become the youngest wielder of Dawn just a few months prior, quite the feat for a eighteen-year-old. His father had granted him the sword after Arthur had singlehandedly killed 20 bandits who were raiding a village in Dorne.

The young knight nodded and Baelor put on his great helmet and Rhaegars squire fastened it to his armor. The helmet was the only armor he used from his own set of black chainmail.

"I feel like a crayfish in a cooking pot.", he complained.

"To heavy? I thought you were stronger than Rhaegar."

"Shut up."

The fanfares rang and the men took formation. There were no riders, only infantry.

"SHIELDWALL!", the leader of the enemies, Tygett Lannister roared.

"Charge!", Mace commanded.

 _What a fucking wally,_  Baelor thought,  _we'll lose if we charge right in their wall._

"SPEARTIP FORMATION!", he cut in.

The men were fast to follow his order, the defenders moved to counter their formation. They crashed into the enemies and the tactical part of the melee was over. Now it was all just man against man, everyone for himself. Baelor swung his mace with both hands at a man with seashells on his shield. The force knocked the shield down, but the man countered with his sword. Baelor caught the blunt blade with the handle of the mace and pushed the man back. He stumbled back and couldn't block the forceful blow Baelor dealt him. He crashed backwards and landed on the ground. Baelor moved forward and knelt over the man.

"I yield, good fight." 

Baelor stood up and looked for a new opponent when someone thrusted a spear at his back. He spun around while swinging his weapon. He managed to hit the shaft with the head of his weapon and the spear broke. His opponent, some westerlander in grey armor without a shild drew his sword however and took a defensive stance. Baelor attacked with a wild punch upwards, hs enemy dodged it however. The man swung his sword at him and managed to hit his helmet which rang like a bell. He pressed his fist against it to stop the sound and blocked a few blows with one hand. Then, the man was hit by another competitor who flew backwards after Lord Crakehall had hit him with his shield. Baelor helped his opponent a moment to stand up, but afterwards the man couldn't stand right on his ankle, it was probably sprained. He left the field and Baelor searched a new foe.

There were only few men left, Arthur, Ser Mace and three other knights on their side, about the same on the other. When Tyrell fell to the ground, he got ready for his enemy when his heart skipped a beat. It was Quent, his friend from his youth. He was clad in fine armor under a black hood and armed with a longsword and a dagger. He hadn't seen any of his friends ever since they had left Sadie and him beyond the wall. He felt anger boiling up inside him as he charged at the young lord. When Quenten evaded his forceful strike he simply took his right hand off the handle and dealt Quentyn a backhand with his steel glove. Quenten spun around by the force and attacked with his weapons. The sword hit Baelors bracer and the dagger aimed for his armpit before he stepped back. He hit Quenten in the side with his mace and grabbed him by the hood. He forced him down to the ground when Quenten managed to grab the mace and used it as a lever to throw him down. They both landed on the ground. The spectators cheered and shouted their names, they were apparently the only ones left. He could see Quenten crawling towards an axe on the ground and simply jumped on him. Quenten was forced into the dirt head first, probably knocked out and Baelor stood up. Someone behind him held his arms and loosened the straps on his helmet. He took it off and held it under his arm.

"I declare Prince Baelor's men the winners of the melee!", the herald shouted. The guests in the stands clapped while the smallfolk cheered loudly. He moved to Arthur and took him into a tight embrace.

 

*******************************

 

The sounds of the harp filled the hall of the rock, all other sounds had ceased to exist. A mere minute before the hall had been filled with loud and drunken knights, laughter and the loud music of a band of minstrels, now everyone listened to the sad music of the crown prince. 

 

_"Hear you now the sad lament_

_Of Brave Young Danny Flint_

_Whose parents died of sickness_

_When she was not but ten."_

 

It was Baelor's favorite song. He could remember it from the evenings of his childhood, his nanny had sung it to him quite frequently. It had been among the first songs Rhaegar had learned when he picked up the harp.

 

_"So off Young Danny went to live_

_With her wicked uncle_

_Who one night stole her maidenhead_

_So into the North she fled._

 

_Oh Danny Flint you'll never escape_

_The Fate the Gods have written_

_And life must seem the cruelest jape_

_Oh Brave Young Danny Flint._

 

_North she fled to take the Black_

_And leave her troubles past_

_She cut her hair and changed her name_

_To Danny Flint the Brave."_

 

All the maids in the hall hung at Rhaegars lips. The crown prince had closed his eyes as he sang and his long fingers danced over the strings.

 

_"At the NightFort Danny took the oath_

_Thought a boy by all_

_And she hoped to live forever_

_As a Brother upon the Wall._

 

_Oh Danny Flint you'll never escape_

_The Fate the Gods have written_

_And life must seem the cruelest jape_

_Oh Brave Young Danny Flint._

 

_Now Danny was so diligent_

_To keep from watchful stares_

_But one night as she bathed_

_Her Brothers saw her body bare."_

 

Baelor stared at his own hands, rough and calloused. He had tried to learn the harp but soon discovered he had a fighter's hands. Rhaegar claimed that Baelor had the better voice however but he didn't want to sing at a feast. He and Rhaegar sometimes sang together when they were alone but he didn't feel it the way Rhaegar did.

 

_"These men were quick to break their vows_

_As they threw her to the ground_

_They took her honor then her life_

_While Danny made not a sound._

 

_Oh Danny Flint there's no escape_

_The Fate the Gods have written_

_And life does seem the cruelest jape_

_Oh Brave Young Danny Flint._

 

_It is said Young Danny still yet walks_

_The NightFort's shadowy halls_

_A pale form singing sorrowfully_

_The loneliest, saddest song."_

 

Rhaegar finished and the men guests started clapping. Some even stood up to give him standing ovations and he could see many girls and even grown women in the hall wiping tears away. Rhaegar took his place between him and Aerys again and Baelor clapped him on the shoulder.

"Best recital i have ever heard of that song."

Rhaegar smiled and went slightly red before hiding behind a goblet.

"And you have made quite the impression on your prospective queen.", Arthur added, nodding to the children's table where Lord Tywins daughter wiped away some tears from her cheek.

"Leave it, Arthur. She's just a little girl.", Rhaegar said.

 

****************************

 

Oldtown, two months later

The tower loomed over him as the ferry neared Battle Isle. Baelor had left Lannisport just after the tourneys end and the frosty feast following it. At first he hadn't understood how the mood could turn this quickly, but then Aerys told him that Lord Tywin had demanded excessive things and privileges from the crown which he had to refuse.

The Reach had been beautiful, especially in this early stage of summer. As he rode through rich fields and green meadows peasants greeted him, children ran behind Syrax as he passed the villages. The winds from the coast drove a pleasant salty smell into his nose. The land was flat and fertile, the wide landscape littered with pretty castles, villages and towns. Also, the Reach seemed to be teeming with knights, he had encountered more traveling knights than he had met ever before. They rode in splendid armor on their horses, colourful pennons on the tip of their lances or they stood next to the roads, challenging other passing warriors for a sparring match. They normally didn't recognise him, he wore dusty black leather and had his simple chainmail set in his saddlebags. Sometimes, however,  they casted a look behind themselves and saw his shield hung over his shoulder, or the tattoo on his head. Then they would turn and demand to host him, no matter how meager their own supplies in terms of food or money were. Some even offered to come with him and swear fealty, but he always declined.

The ferry docked at the little harbour at the foot of the tower. Baelor was received by Lord Hightower's heir, Baelor, a young knight just two years younger than him. Sadie had told him of her younger brother, she had liked him well enough even though his mother had hated her guts.

"Ser Baelor.", the young man greeted him solemnly.

"Ser Baelor.", he responded with a grin.

He was led through the black fortress at the foot of the tower. They walked up many stairs until they reached the Lord's solar.

Lord Leyton was an impressive man. He was tall, broad and clad in fine clothing, his blue eyes reminded him of Sadie's. He had short greying hair and a salt-and-pepper beard. Next to the Lord sat a woman around the same age. Baelor knelt before the Lord and the Lady, only for politeness' sake.

"Mylord Hightower, it grieves me deeply to tell you of your daughter Sadie's death."

Lord Leyton looked surprised and opened his mouth but the Lady simply laughed. It was a short and cruel sound, Baelor could almost feel his blood boiling out of anger.

"What is there to laugh about?", he asked in a low, cold voice.

"We don't care about her here. We thought she would marry some knight who didn't care for her and that she would stay in the capital."

"She was your husband's daughter! My best friend! Sadie died a hero's death beyond the wall."

"How?", Lord Leyton suddenly asked.

"A wildling.", Baelor lied, "Strongest fighter i have ever seen. Armed with this sword here."

He pulled out Dark Sister and laid it on the floor.

"Without Sadie i would be dead. And the sword could never have been found."

"So have some minstrel write a song about her!", Lady Hightower intercepted, "There will be no honorings for Sadie Flowers in the Hightower!"

Now was the moment. Baelor pulled the wedding cloak out.

"Sadie Targaryen you mean. We married before we left for the north."

He looked at Lord Leyton. The Lord of Oldtown had his face buried in his hands and tears flowed down his wrists.

"I am sorry you didn't know, but we couldn't tell anyone."

He turned to the lady.

"So now you see why Sadie has to be honored. I will build a monument for her myself if i have to. But i hope her father would want to honor his brave daughter, if he's not to afraid of his wife."

Lord Leyton looked up at that. He stood up and knelt before Baelor to look into his eyes. He took the cloak out of his hands and let it slide through his fingers. 

"Sadie... of course there will be a memorial. Right here at the tower. Please come and walk with me, my prince."

 

They left behind the solar and Lord Leyton's furious wife. He led Baelor to a balcony with an amazing view over the land. Leyton leaned on the railing and looked away.

"I always loved Sadie the most out of my children. It might be that she was my firstborn, but i think it is because i loved her mother more than my wife. I even wrote her every week to King's Landing. She even answered every one. Sadie as a child... she was quite the handful, i am sure you know that."

Baelor chuckled.

"Aye, that she was. Until the end."

They looked to the west. The sun was already setting, the water in the port turned orange. Torches and other lights were being lit all around the city, it looked even more alive. The great dome of the Citadel started to glow and the high windows of the Starry Sept threw the light out in a hundred new colours. 

"Your city is beautiful."

Hightower nodded. 

"Beautiful and old. The oldest city in Westeros. Only the King's city is bigger."

Baelor snorted.

"And uglier. And it smells like shit."

"So stay here if you want to."

Baelor looked at him with narrowed eyes.

"I mean, if you want to. There would always be place for my son in law at my table."

"I am grateful. But i have duties in the capital. Duties to my family. I'm sorry."

He grabbed the old man's hand and squeezed it. Hightower looked at him with red, tear-stained eyes.

"She loved you, Prince Baelor. ever since she met you when you were children. I remember what she wrote  _"Oh father, the king's squire is so dreamy. Prince Baelor is always humble and nice, and the best swordsman in the castle at that."_ ""

The tears returned into the old man's eyes and Baelor felt them welling up inside him to.  _Always humble and nice._ And this boy would be 'Baelor the Impaler' only a handful of years later? Lord Hightower slumped down on the railing and Baelor pulled him into an embrace. 

"I am sorry. I should have been... better."

 

********************************************

 

The Red Keep, 277 AC,

Baelor rode through the gates a couple of months later. He had wandered the reach all alone, avoiding every castle and town, living from hand to mouth.

As he entered the keep he noticed the severe lack of knights and soldiers. Normally the keep was full with men in service to the king. He stopped a serving maid.

"Where is everyone?"

"D-duskendale of course."

"Why?"

"Haven't you heard my prince? The king was kidnapped."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 8: Defiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Defiance of Duskendale and Part II of the years prior to the rebellion

Duskendale, 277 AC

The tents of the besieging army were raised in perfect lines. Baelor estimated around eight thousand men-at-arms by the number of tents. Two large siege-towers stood on the inner perimeter, a few catapults next to them. About 10 galleys blockaded the port. Men stopped their tasks to greet him as he rode swiftly through their ranks. He halted his destrier at the tent of the hand where the dragon and the lion flew proudly side by side. 

The tent was almost as big as a house, made of fine red silk adorned with golden threads. A lannister guard held the flap open for him to step in. When he entered the men at the table looked up. Lord Tywin sat at the head of the table, Rhaegar to his left. Lord Commander Hightower and Ser Barristan were present, along with some Lords he didn't know that well. 

"Greetings, my Lords and Sers. Prince Rhaegar."

"Prince Baelor. Have our messenges finally reached you?"

Baelor took the chair a servant brought to him from the inside of the tent. He then took his time, sitting opposite of the hand, pouring himself some wine and taking a sip.

"No, i heard of the situation when i returned to the capital. How did it happen?"

"Lord Darklyn asked for negotiations of a special trade charter for his city. When i declined he asked the king directly who went here, contrary to my advice.", Lord Tywin explained.

"And Lord Darklyn took him hostage."

"Yes.", Rhaegar said.

Baelor took another sip. He swirled it around in his mouth. The wine was undoubtedly a fine vintage, but that didn't help the strange feeling he had. This was a giant heap of shit, no way to talk around it.

"What are our options? Have you gone into negotiations with Lord Darklyn?"

"The man is delusional. He still demands a special trade agreement and amnesty for the crime of kidnapping the king."

"Or he knows that his life is forfeit, so he threatened to kill the king if we attacked the city."

"Do we even know that the king is still alive?"

"No. But if he is dead, there is a better one right here.", the hand said, pointing to Rhaegar.

 

**********************************************

 

Duskendale, Six months later

Baelor hurled the banner of negotiations into the corner of his tent. He had talked to Lord Denys every week of the siege, trying to find out if Aerys was still alive and negotiating terms of surrender. But Lord Tywin had been right, the Lord of Duskendale was delusional. He took off his black linen gambeson, the steel armguards and his chainmail. He then put on his leather vest and strapped Dark Sister back to his waist. Even though it was the height of summer he had soon discovered how the hand disapproved of negligent wardrobe, so he had to boil in his clothes like everyone else. The soldiers were up, everyone was enjoying the free time and the merits the siege offered. The men where gambling, drinking and whoring.

He walked through the encampment towards Lord Tywins tent. The hand had resided from there for half a year by now, even the lords of the realm came here if they wanted their matters settled and there were two maesters dispatched from the citadel for the siege camp. He greeted some of the soldiers known to him and stood to talk with some for a moment. When he reached the tent of the war council everyone was already waiting inside. He walked in confidently and nodded towards the generals in greeting. Present where the hand, the crown prince, the two kingsguards as well as Ser Kevan Lannister and Ser Tygett. Baelor took his usual place next to Rhaegar before he talked.

"Still unchanged. He won't say anything, he won't show me any sign if Aerys still lives."

"Then he doesn't anymore.", Rhaegar said, surprisingly blunt.

Everyone in the tent looked at the crown prince. Baelor couldn't believe his ears.

"Why wouldn't he show you the king? It would let us know that he is actually holding my father as a hostage and that he can kill him whenever he wants."

Lord Tywin rose to his feet. 

"The Prince is right. We have allowed this mockery to go on for far to long. We shall storm the city now, at least we will know for sure then. And every man in the realm shall now that King Rhaegar is not to be fooled."

Ser Barristan Selmy stood up from his chair only to immediately kneel before Rhaegar.

"Your Grace, what you say might be true. But what if it isn't? If no man is as cursed as the kinslayer, what is about a son that risks his father's life?"

"What would you have me do then, good Ser?"

"Allow me to infiltrate the city. I will find out if the king is still alive and save him if i can."

Rhaegar stared down at the table before him. His hands trembled. He then looked to Lord Lannister and nodded. Lord Tywin nodded in understanding. 

"Very well. You have our best wishes with you Ser Barristan. I will give you one day."

The commanders agreed. Then they left, Baelor dawdling to stay behind. Once they were alone in the tent he stood directly before the hand. 

"Lord Tywin, i know that what Rhaegar said was by your advice. You should better pray for Ser Barristans success."

"Why, Prince Baelor?", the Lord of Casterly Rock asked scoffingly.

"Because no man in the realm will be able to stop me from killing you if Aerys is killed during the assault."

"Are you threatening me?"

"You always were quick to grasp a situation, my lord."

 

******************************

 

They stood together, concealed by the woods next to the encampment. Rhaegar, Ser Gerold and Baelor had waited here ever since sunset when Barristan had scaled the walls. The situation was tense, everyone was wearing armor as they knew they would storm the city on the morrow if the knight failed. The moon had reached it's highest point by now, the skies were completely clear. Hightower sharpened his sword as they waited while Rhaegar tried to write something down and Baelor couldn't take his eyes of the city. It looked so peaceful but the people inside had to be starving by now. Six months into the siege no sounds could be heard from Duskendale. At first they noticed the absence of the choir of roosters every morning. By now, no more dogs were heard barking, no more horses no more cows. 

 

The time dragged on, seemingly forever. They sat hours and hours together, always casting glances at the castle to the east. A new morning was beginning to dawn, turning the sky into a beautiful mix of pink and orange. Then they noticed a movement above the battlements. Light was shining on bright metal, men were fighting near the place where Ser Barristan had scaled the walls. 

Baelor jumped to his feet. He grabbed his shield and ran out of the trees. In his right hand he held a grappling iron on a long rope he had brought in case it was necessary.

He was close to the wall by now, he could recognise Ser Barristan looking down from the battlements. The kingsguard had apperently slain his foe and was now looking for a way to escape. Duskendales walls were about 30 feet high, clearly ro high for a jump. On his right Baelor could hear the horns and drums of the besieging army. They were calling the men for the attack. 

 _Shit,_ Baelor thought.

He flung the hook with all the force he possessed. It flew up  to the wall and Ser Barristan caught it. The knight hooked it between to pinnacles and Aerys started to climb down. Only now Baelor noticed how the rope was only 20 feet long. Aerys, weakened from his long incarceration slided it down and had to let go of it as he reached it's end. Baelor was able to catch the king before they both tumbled down. He felt two hands grabbing him in the armpits and helping him to his feet. He looked around him. Ser Gerold had just caught Ser Barristan and Rhaegar stood behind him. Aerys rose to his knees slowly.

"THE KING! KILL THE KING!", a man atop the battlements screamed. 

 _Fuck,_ he thought as he covered Aerys with his shield. 

The five of them ducked behind three shields as they retreated towards the trees. Arrows and spears hit their makeshift shieldwall and some hopeless guards even threw their swords, maces and axes behind them. Baelor almost cried with relief when the projectiles couldn't reach them anymore.

"YES!", he roared. 

The kingsguards were laughing and even Rhaegar smiled. He then turned to Aerys who had the darkest expression he had ever seen.

"If you fools are done, go back, storm the city and bring me their heads!", the king screamed.

Baelor stopped his victory howl. Aerys looked angrier than he had ever seen him before, his fists trembling at his side. He opened his mouth to ask the king what his fucking problem was when Rhaegar grabbed both of them at the shoulders, even though Aerys wriggled free immediately.

"No need to storm it. They're moving out."

It was true. A long procession of people came out of the gate, holding white banners up.

"Quick.", Rhaegar said, "Let's start setting up a tribunal, get them sentenced and ..."

"NO", the king cut in, "They will all die! This is the sentence i give them."

"My king, there are women and children among them!", Ser Gerold said.

"TRAITOR'S SPAWN AND TRAITOR'S CUNTS!", the king shrieked.

They had reached the procession, the people sank to their knees. Lord Tywin walked up to the king before Aerys started to scream.

"TRAITORS! YOU ARE DEAD!"

"What do you mean your grace?", the hand inquired.

"Behead them, hang them, mutilate and torture! Paint Duskendale in red!"

"Your Grace, please pardon at least the women and children.", Ser Barristan begged, sinking to his knees.

Aerys forced a smile.

"Ah, my saviour. Fine, you can take one of them. The others are already dead."

The knight looked shocked,  but regained his composure quickly. He rose to his feet, turning towards the kneeling families of Darklyn and Hollard.

"Who is the youngest one?"

"My boy! Dontos!", a young woman screamed, shoving forward a chubby little ten-year-old.

Barristan walked forward and took the boy by his hand, leading him away from his family. The king watched it with burning, feverish eyes. Then he turned around to the commanders.

"Kill the rest. Make an example."

His gaze fell on Baelor.

"Baelor, my boy. Take 50 men, cut trees for everyone and line the roads of the city with the impaled."

He then walked forward and pulled out a eastern-looking woman by her hair.

"This one should get a special treatment. She's the main conspirator. Rip out her tongue and her womanly parts."

Baelor felt bile rising in his throat. The Darklyns and the Hollards were big families, around 40 people, mostly women and children. Baelor had never killed a woman, nor a boy he hadn't met and captured on the battlefield. But it was his kings command, and what did it matter? The people staring up to him were corpses anyway. At least he could offer them a quick death, noone would care if he impaled corpses instead of living people.

"Fine. I need a couple of days for that. We shall meet in King's Landing."

 

*****************************

 

 Baelor returned to the Red Keep in a bad mood. It had taken three days to execute the king's order and two weeks in addition to tear down Hollard Hall. He needed to talk to Rhaella.

After his return he had talked quite a lot with her. He told her almost everything that occurred in his self-imposed exile except his time with Shiera and the fight with the fiend beyond the wall. He had simply spoken of his past, about the guilt he felt on his soul almost every day, the guilt for the people he had killed, for the people he had hurt and tortured and the people he had let die. At first he had been ashamed of himself, Aerys had raised him to be a strong Targaryen warrior and here he was, crying to Aerys' wife. But Baelor felt the souls of the dead next to him, every night he would wake up, hallucinating of someone standing next to his bed, Sadie looking down at him in disgust and disappointment, Lady Darklyn standig there, bloody and burnt, her eyes sending arrows of hate to him. Seven Hells, sometimes he even saw that old myrish commander that established the name 'Baelor the Impaler' (Which had spread to all of Westeros by now, much to his frustration.).

It had helped, speaking about it. They would walk to the gardens, sit down in one of the pavilions and talk for hours. He had learned of her fate in the time he was absent. She had suffered more miscarriages, Aerys growing more cruel and distant by the day. She had raised Rhaegar almost by herself, turning him into an admirable young man, Baelor thought.

 

He reached the queens chambers, but nobody opened at his knock, but Rhaella had to be in her room. He tried again, harder. The kingsguard standing next to him, Lewyn Martell, looked at him with pity and shook his head. He extended an arm and laid a hand on Baelors shoulder. The soothing gesture somehow furied him so he brushed the hand away and  hammered on the door with his fists, loud knocks sounding through the hallway. Martell put a hand on his shoulder but Baelor shoved him back forcefully. Something was off.

The door opened and a serving maid looked out.

"The queen doesn't want any visitors."

The girls voicewas trembling. There was a pause, but he could hear someone crying silently inside the room. He pushed the maid aside, storming into Rhaella's bedroom before they could stop him. There, he instantly froze.

The queen sat on an armchair, half wrapped in clean white linen. Her face was purple and swollen, he could see scratches all along her body, bitemarks and bruises on her bare breasts and similar wounds on her calfs, some even bleeding a bit. Two maids were rubbing ointments on the wounds while another hugged the crying queen to her chest.

"Rhaella, what happened? Has someone attacked you? Does the king know?"

"Baelor...", the queen croaked.

"We need to talk to him, whoever did this will be punished!"

"Baelor, please...", she began.

"What? Do you need something? I'll go get Aerys, i'll..."

"It was Aerys!", one of the maids screamed, immediately covering her mouth with her hands.

Baelor felt as if he had been hit by a lance, straight to the chest without armor. Only ten times harder, he couldn't feel any air in his lungs. He closed his eyes and wavered as his worldview shattered. Suddenly he regained control and knelt before Rhaella, taking both of her hands in his, looking deep into her dark purple eyes.

"Say the word, my queen and i will bring you his head.", he heard himself, but with a voice he had never known before, like the growl of a bear mixed with the hissing of a snake. 

"No Baelor.", Rhaella sobbed, "just hold me, for a while."

He felt the anger bubbling down inside him at the sound of her voice. Suddenly, he felt like crying himself as he rose to sit on the armrest of her chair. Baelor cupped her face with his left as his right hand stroked her hair softly. Rhaella leaned onto his chest and he felt something stabbing right into his heart.

"My sword is yours. Should the day come, i will kill anyone you want to see dead.", he said, though he felt the words didn't need to be spoken out anymore.

 

******************************************

 

King's Landing, End of 278 AC

The torch in his left hissed as it hit some cobwebs in the tunnel. His right glided over the wall until he found the doorhandle to open the secret room.

Their routine had switched after that morning. Now Baelor was the shoulder that Rhaella could cry on, or, as she would call it  _"my anchor"_  .

The other things had come naturally after that. It started with Rhaella telling him of the secret passage from her room to the stables which he should use to visit her. They couldn't risk anything with Aerys' new spymaster lurking around. After his long incarceration the king didn't trust him, Rhaella or Rhaegar anymore. 

After a few weeks Rhaella had asked him to get her moon tea. She said that she would never allow the king's seed to grow within her. Baelor had gone to Pycelle, asking for the recipe. He had stated an "inconvenience" he had sired upon a knight's daughter as reason. He still remembered his urge to throw up as the old man smiled at him conspiratorially and told him: "A problem most of us men of state have to face sooner or later."

Then, it developed that he would stay the night in the queen's chambers, staying up as she slept. Rhaella had claimed to have nightmares whenever she was alone. But slowly now, she was regaining some of the confidence he remembered from her during his childhood.

Then, one day it had happened.

_He had just entered her chamber when his heart skipped a beat. Rhaella was lying on her bed, nude and propped up on her elbow. The room was bright with the light of a dozen candles, fruit and wine standing on the table. She smiled as soon as she saw him enter._

_"My silver knight."_

_His throat was dry._

_"My -, My-, Rhaella."_

_"Baelor, don't make me wait.", the queen said smiling._

_"You really want me to-"_

_"I wouldn't be doing this if i didn't want it.", she replied, "Besides, i am quite enamored with you."_

_He couldn't talk. He thought it was wrong, but he could feel it too. He had only assumed his feelings weren't mutual. Baelor had suspected the queen did only view him as a little brother. But then again, we are Targaryens, he tought._

_Baelor pulled his shirt over his head, then he tore off his boots. His leather pants followed, everything landing on a messy pile beside the bed. She smiled as he leaned down towards her, before she grabbed him by the neck and kissed him. Baelor proceeded to climb into the bed. He knew it was probably wrong, that it could kill him, or worse her._

_But who was he to spurn the Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First men?_

That was how their affair began. Soon after Baelor had found a secret chamber, unaccessable except from the secret passage. He had built up a makeshift bed in there, and cleaned up the chamber. It had actually been quite the nice room once, with decorated walls and even candleholders embedded in the walls. Sometimes they would speculate who built it inside the keep. Baelor's theory was that Rhaenyra Targaryen had it installed for secret meetings while Rhaella thought of Queen Naerys and the Dragonknight. Now it was theirs, a little hideout from the madness of the king. Baelor was still determined to kill Aerys, should he find out. Then Rhaella would understand that it was either he or them, so she wouldn't stop Baelor again.

He entered the room. He was first, as usual. Rhaella liked to take a bath before she would come, besides she had to wait if Aerys would show up at her door. They had soon discovered that the king would only come to her chambers whenever he ordered someone killed. So Baelor lit the candles, fixed the bed and opened a bottle of arborgold. He preferred the dornish vintages, but Rhaella liked the sweeter things in life.  _Quite a miracle that she has chosen me then,_ he thought. 

Half an hour later, she entered the room. He smiled and stood up. The queen was ten years his elder,but still beautiful. He towered over the petite woman who ran her hands over his muscular chest. He was six-and-a-half foot tall, while Rhaella was only around five. He grabbed her by the thighs with his big, rough hands and lifted her up to his height.

"I love you.", he said before he kissed her deeply.

 

**********************************

 

The morning after  he woke up late. with terror he realised that not only they were still in the room, but someone else was inside it. He reached for something to use in a fight but a firm hand grabbed his wrist.

"We need to talk about something Baelor.", Rhaegar said.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading everyone. 1482 hits, you all are amazing.  
> Because i have been asked, the ages of the royal family(by the end of this chapter):  
> Baelor: 24  
> Rhaegar: 19  
> Aerys: 36  
> Rhaella: 34  
> Viserys: 2  
> Next up: The biggest tourney in history.


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final years before the rebellion.

The Red Keep, end of 278 AC

 

Baelor followed Rhaegar through the dark passages. The young man didn't say a word and Baelor couldn't find any either. What could he say?  _Sorry, i knew we grew up together, that you view me as a big brother but i simply love laying with your mother?_  He decided that it was best to not talk about the topic for now.

"What is the meaning of this, Rhae?"

Rhaegar stopped and turned to him.

"My father. Something has to be done about him. He's growing more insane by the day and more violent as well. We two will go to a meeting with trustworthy men at court, to adress the opportunity of a coup and a following regency."

Baelor let that sink in for a bit. A year ago he would have slapped Rhaegar in the face for even entertaining such thoughts. But then he remembered the wounds and scars on Rhaella. Her crying and the nightmares. Aerys was no longer the man that raised him, Baelor was no longer his follower. Hadn't been for a long time. He was Baelor the Impaler for fucks sake.

"A regency ain't enough. He needs to pay."

"This is about my mother i suppose? You cannot kill him just to be with her, he-"

"He's raping her ever since the two of them were married! Since she's fourteen!", he hissed.

"What?"

Baelor looked at his kinsman. The young man seemed completely shocked.

"I guess she wouldn't have told you. She hid it from everyone at court. I learned of it only because of a coincidence."

"There are no coincidences in this world. Only fate.", Rhaegar said, a strange glistening in his eyes.

Baelor didn't say anything.

"What if my father finds out? How are you going to protect her from his wrath?"

"I have a good sword. His kingsguards can't stop me, except for Arthur or Barristan who won't stop me."

Rhaegar looked at him and nodded.

"I'm not angry at you. If anyone deserves to be happy, it is my mother."

They moved on through the dark passages until they came to halt before a simple wooden door. Light fell through from under it and on the sides.

"Baelor, i need you to swear that you won't tell anyone of this meeting."

"I swear. On my sword, on my heart and on my honor i swear."

Rhaegar knocked three times on the door, then twice then three more. The key rustled inside the keyhole from inside and the door swung open. They stood inside a round chamber, lit with candles, the only furniture a round table and some chairs. Present inside the room were Arthur Dayne, the White Bull and Lewyn Martell, all three clad in simple brown cloaks. They sat down around the table.

"Is he with us?", Arthur asked.

"Yes. Though he wants to go further.", Rhaegar said, then looked at Baelor.

Baelor swallowed.

"I will kill the king. If anyone deserves to know the worst Baelor the Impaler can do, it's Aerys."

They looked at him. Aerys had been a promising fighter in his youth, but Baelor looked as if he could eat Aerys as a light breakfast. And, everybody here knew of his reputation. Of what he had done to the Lace serpent, ripping out her tongue with his bare hands before mutilating her further before simultaniously impaling and burning her. Arthur looked as if he didn't want to know what the worst that Baelor could do was.

"We will need time to prepare this coup.", Rhaegar broke the silence.

"We should try to listen out our fellow kingsguards. If they are not on our side, they could thwart Prince Baelor's attack on the king.", Ser Arthur said.

"But we need to be careful. Don't act suspicious, try to be as subtle as possible. If the king finds out, we will have to fight through.", the Lord Commander added.

"We need an army to take control of the keep. And Rhaella and Viserys have to be gone before we move.", argued Prince Lewyn.

"If this attempt ends in blood, Rhaegar can't be involved. He needs to be the loyal son, mourning his father.", Baelor said.

Rhaegar rose to his feet.

"I don't want to ascend to the throne through a puddle of my father's blood. We need a great council, to adress the King's incapability to rule."

"I don't know.", Baelor said, "That would be even more difficult to organize in secret than to raise an army. You give me enough coin and i'll raise you a massive company out of the city. We would take control of the keep, kill Aerys and surrender to you." 

"What about you? You are doing this for my mother, but if you kill the king i would have to banish you, at minimum. Would you really sail to the wall willingly just to save my mother?"

"Yes."

"No, bloodshed has to be avoided. We will organize a tourney, to mask the council under it. But it will have to wait until spring. winter is already upon us, and it will stay for a while."

  


 

***************************

 

The Great Sept of Baelor, King's Landing, early 280 AC

 

Rhaegar's bride was undeniably beautiful. The dornish princess was small and petite and her eyes glowed as she was led towards the Crown Prince and the High Septon. Baelor stood behind Rhaegar as his best man, holding a fine cloak of black and red silk behind his back. He scanned the crowd below them. Half of the sept was filled with the courtiers of the city, most clad in modest rope, and the dornish wedding guests, a sea of colorful silk. Prince Doran walked his sister up the stairs beneath the altar, before handing her hand to Rhaegar. Baelor then turned towards the altar with the couple. 

Baelor fought to keep from yawning as the old priest drivelled on. He had never liked the faith of the seven, endless ceremonies and a man with a crystal crown preaching humility. Shiera had taught him much about the valyrian gods and their ancient lore, a religion much more to his liking. The gods of old Valyria were almost human, fighting, betraying and sometimes even killing each other. 

He thought about that particularly funny story with Vhagar, the Goddess of the Sun and Syrax, Goddess of Hunt and Moon and how they both tricked Caraxes, God of the Sky. The god had courted both of them at the same time and when they found out they...

"You may now put the cloak of your protection around the bride, to take her into your house.", the old man finally said.

Rhaegar undid the clasp of Elia's maiden's cloak before handing it to Doran. He then turned to Baelor.

"The cloak."

"What?", Baelor said, acting shocked before smiling at his friend. 

The High Septon looked annoyed, but most of the wedding guests chuckled or laughed, especially the dornish side. Baelor handed Rhaegar the wedding cloak and stepped down to stand next to Rhaella.

"You just couldn't resist?", she whispered at him while Rhaegar and Elia recited their vows.

"I was never one to resist something, you know that.", he answered, his eyes lingering on her cleavage.

"Not today, Baelor.", she said sadly, "Aerys wants me and Viserys to dine with him in private."

His smile fell at that. He looked down at her, pity in his gaze. A tear flowed down her cheek so he handed her a handkerchief from his pocket.

"No shame for a mother to cry at her sons wedding.", he said merrily when he noticed Lord Tywins stare.

_Better prepare for a hard drinking night._

 

*******************************

 

Baelor was already roaring drunk when they called for the dance. But, as Rhaegar led his bride to the floor he rose to his feet. Baelor had always been a good dancer, especially when he was drunk. As was customary they watched the traditional first dance, making a circle around the couple. Baelor clapped along with the other guests before he was tapped on the shoulder slightly. Behind him stood one of Elia's ladies in waiting, Ashara Dayne if he remembered correctly. 

"Huh?", he said.

The lady's smile broke out into giggles as she held out her hand.

"It's customary for the best man to dance with the maid of honor."

He started to laugh to as he grabbed her small hand.

"I'm sorry. You could ask the Grandmaester, i was always a bit lazy in lessons of etiquette."

Baelor led her to the dancefloor. The musicians were playing a fast version of seasons of my love.

"So you are Prince Baelor. I have to say, you don't live up to the stories we hear of you in Dorne."

"What have you heard?"

"They differ. In one you are a honorable hero, fighting for glory and honor, in another you are an ordinary mercenary drinking wine mixed with the blood of your victims. So what are you?

"Something in between i think. Though i would never water down my blood with wine before i drink it.", he jested after the song ended.

She laughed and made her way for another partner.

  

  


  


A few dances later, the first voices began to call for the bedding. 

"Bring the prince to bed!"

"No wedding without a bedding!"

Baelor thought to exclude himself from the ceremony but Rhaegar had asked him especially to make sure noone went to far with his bride, considering her frail condition. So he followed the roaring mass of men, carefully watching them undress Elia. When she was clad only in her nightgown of silk, he decided to step in. He pushed through some men to put a hand on the princess' shoulder.

"The stairs leading to my cousins room are steep and long.",  he said, "And Rhaegar would be angry with us if she was already sleeping before she climbed up."

With that he scooped the young woman up in his arms, ignoring the half-hearted protests of some men considering the gown. Elia flashed him a grateful smile as he led the procession up the spiralled staircase. Befor the prince's room there were already the ladies, waiting for the bride to join her husband. He put Elia on her feet and gave her a reassuring squeeze on her arm. When the princess entered the crowd broke into laughter and clapped.

"Let's allow them some privacy.", Elia's brother Oberyn jested.

"The dragon needs to fly to the sun now."

"Hope he doesn't burn his wings!"

The guests slowly trickled away. When Baelor reached the bottom of the stairs someone grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Ah, Prince Oberyn. To what do i owe the pleasure?"

"Elia wrote me that you have travelled the free cities? I'm planning on doing a tour myself, maybe you could tell me and a couple of companions of your experiences."

Baelor flashed the young man a grin.

"Right now? I could offer you some bottles of lysene absinthe, but i'm afraid you wouldn't remember anything of my stories."

"Even better. That way i will have fresh impressions." 

 

**************************************

 

Harrenhal, 281 AC

 

Baelor looked up to the massive hearttree. The giant weirwood had an hateful expression carved into it. He stetched his neck to look for the infamous thirteen marks his sword had left here. He grabbed a low, thick branch and pulled himself up. The wood groaned under his massive weight, but it didn't break luckily. The twigs scratched at his scalp, he had recently cut off his long hair in favor of a more practical style.

He grabbed onto the next branch above him when he put his fingers into something sticky. He pulled it back to find red resin on it. As he pulled himself up he could see the marks, thirteen deep red gashes in the bark. He thought about Prince Daemon, sitting here on this very branch 150 years ago ready to kill a family member, to kill his kin. Baelor had gone further than Rhaegar knew in his own kinslaying plans. He had asked Aerys to appoint him as a kingsguard after Ser Harlan Grandison died. Aerys had not accepted him yet but he said he would announce the new kingsguard at Harrenhal. This new work would give him the opportunity to be next to Aerys with a blade. He pulled out Dark Sister to leave his own mark on the tree when he heard voices from below.

"Why the hell did you idiot write to father to betrothe me to that oaf?"

"Stop shouting Lyanna, you just don't know him that well. He is already in love with you, just after two days, doesn't that count for anything?"

"Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man's nature. I heard he has already made a bastard in the vale."

Baelor cleared his throat. The voices beneath him stopped as he climbed down the tree. He reached the ground and turned around, just to find an rather shocked looking boy and a girl who's face lit up as she saw him. He grinned, quite embarrassed about his eavesdropping. He was about to turn away as he saw the cheeky grin on the little lady's face. 

"Do i know you, mylady?", he asked.

"Well, i guess it has been seven years, but i am still very disappointed."

 _Seven years? Who the hell did i meet seven years ago?_ He looked at the girl closely, her pretty face, slim frame and long and curly black hair. Then it dawned on him.

"Little Lyanna Stark. How is Moon?"

The girl laughed and hugged him.

"She's well. In the stables as we speak. Ned, this is the prince who has gifted me the fine mare your stallion is from."

The young man shook his hand and smiled.

"So you gave my sister the fastest horse in the north?"

"She was trying to ride her on her own during a feast. And my 18 stone would be to heavy for the old gal."

"Yeah, i can only imagine what kind of horse you would need with that much muscle.", Lyanna said while gripping his arm.

"Robert is stronger.", her brother intercepted.

"I'm stronger than who?", a booming voice came from behind them.

"Than me.", Baelor said to the young lord stomping over ferns and little bushes.

"But i think i have to disagree.", he added with a smirk.

The young man was one or two inches taller than him and even more broadly built. He had long black hair and short black stubble on his cheeks, a strong contrast to Baelor's shaved skull and the long silver beard that reached down to his collarbone.

"So you are the young man lucky enough to marry Lyanna? I think we share a cousin."

The Lord of Storm's End took Lady Lyannas small hand in his and pressed a kiss on it. Baelor noticed how she tensed at his touch.

"What are you all doing here in this forest while the feast is starting?"

"Praying.", Eddard said.

 

"They have already started? And here i stand, the informal master of feasts on the small council, climbing around to find some old carvings."

 

********************************

 

Baelor sat down again as the applause died out. He had joined Rhaegar for a few songs, adding his deeper voice as a background to Rhaegar's. He downed a goblet of red and stuffed some meat into his mouth.

"I believe this is the first time i heard you sing.", Ashara says to his right.

Rhaegar sat left of him, Elia on his side just below the table where the King and Lord Whent sat. He looked to the dornish lady. Elia was always insisting on seating them together, Rhaegar had told him that Ashara had apparently taken an interest in him. He pitied her for it, but couldn't bring himself to tell her the truth. Except the two of them only Rhaegar knew of the affair Baelor had with Rhaella and Baelor would keep it that way. He wasn't sure how it would play out, if he could flee after his deed or if the guards would clap him in irons for murdering the king, but he wouldn't drag his love into it. He didn't want to kill Aerys to take Rhaella for his wife, he wanted to kill him to give her back her freedom.

He smiled at Ashara and sipped on his refilled goblet.

"I usually don't. Rhaegar practically begged me for it, that's all."

She turned away, as usual irritated by his short and rude answers. He rose to his feet and went to mingle with the other guests, clinking his goblet with a few people he knew. He was looking for the little Stark, hoping to continue their conversation on horses that had been interrupted by Robert Baratheon. He saw the young stormlord sitting at a table with a few other men, drinking like oxen led to their watering place, but the lady was nowhere near. A boy stumbled into him, his hair and doublet completely soaked with red wine. Baelor patted the young boy on the head when he noticed the direwolf embroidered on his chest. 

 "Hello there young man. Would you tell me where your siblings sit?"

The lad looked at him with big eyes before pointing towards a table.

"Thank you."

Baelor walked towards the table where the young Starks sat with the Tully-Girls and a young and thin man. He let himself fall to the chair next to Lady Lyanna and smiled at the young people stopping their conversations to greet him politely.

"No need for that my friends. I'm not hungry for praise like some other valyrians i know.", he said chuckling.

Lady Lyanna smiled and turned towards him.

"You and the crown prince make quite the duet."

"Thank you. But i am only that good at 'Danny Flint' because it's my favourite."

"Why that sad ballad?", the eldest stark cut in, "I thought a famous soldier like you would love the songs of bravery and valor."

"I think there are few people as brave as the girl who joined the watch.", Lyanna argued.

"But it's so sad. The way she got killed.", the young redhead next to Brandon said. "There are so many beautiful love songs, like 'Florian and Jonquil'."

Her betrothed kissed her knuckles, making her face go red. 

"Like my cousin would tell you, the saddest songs are the ones that are true. Those bards are the only ones to use their music to process their stories, most minstrels simply make stuff up when they don't have any real things."

"Enough of this morbid philosophies!", Brandon said. "We are young and spring has come to this lands!"

The young man moved on to talk with his little brother, leaving him finally alone to talk to Lady Lyanna. They talked about horses for about an hour, she knew not only how to ride well but was seemingly also good at breeding horses. He told her about the Dothraki in Essos, their lifestyle that was completely based on their horses. Lyanna leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"I might need your help with something. I need a helper for gathering a few things before tomorrow."

"Of course, what do you need?"

She opened her mouth when a servant approached him.

"My prince, the king asks to see you."

He stood up and took his goblet from the table.

"Simply come to the godswood in an hour.", she whispered in his ear.

 

***************************

 

The chamber where Aerys awaited him was small, only the king and a few kingsguards present. Baelor knelt after he entered.

"My king, what would you have me do?"

"Simple. Don't drink to much, i need you at your senses when i appoint my new kingsguard tomorrow."

Baelor smiled. He knew the king was dumb but he didn't think him to be that stupid. Maybe he could do it tomorrow, strike down the king before half the realm.

"Of course. May i retire for the night?"

"Go, my boy."

 

*******************************

 

 The air in the godswood was cool, one didn't even hear the sounds from the feast. Baelor was clad in a black cloak with a hood and simple leather, his long silver beard concealed by a cloth wrapped before his mouth. Small twigs broke under his heavy steps. He nervously held the pommel of Dark Sister, ready to whip it out of it's scabbard at anyone. 

"Prince Baelor!", a low voice called out.

He turned towards the noise. There she stood clad in similar attire to a squire.

"Lady Lyanna. What is it you need?"

"I need armor and a horse. I seek to partake in the tourney. And please, leave out the Lady."

"Alright Lyanna. How should i help you to get your hands on these things? And why do you want to ride?"

She explained the situation. How some squires had beaten up the crannogman from earlier and she had chased them off.

Baelor chuckled. He liked this feisty girl, he decided.

"Fine, i'll help you. Put on your hood."

She smiled and followed his command. They walked over towards the armory, shortly before they arrived he rubbed a handful of dirt onto her cheeks, in the dim light of the torches it would look like a beard. Baelor pulled down the cloth before his face and grabbed Lyanna by her ear.

"Greetings, good men.", he said to the guards before the armory, "My useless idiot of a squire here seems to have forgotten some pieces of my armor in King's Landing. I shall need something from your armory."

"My prince, i am sure Lord Whent won't mind if you take what you need."

"Thank you. I hope there is a big stick inside.", he said pointing his left to Lyanna who kept her face down.

He and the guards shared a good laugh for a moment before they let him trough.

"Quick.", he said as soon as they were inside and alone.

He ran over to the chestplates as Lyanna tried on a small chainmail shirt. He took a plate that would fit her if she put on a few layers underneath and threw it in a bag. She put on a small helmet with a narrow slit for the eyes while he searched for something to cover her legs.

"Have you got everything you need?", he called to her.

"No, i need a shield but i can't find any."

Baelor cursed. They had been inside the armory for about 20 minutes, the guards should get nervous soon.

"Fuck the shield, i will give you mine."

He threw the bag with the pieces into her arms as they walked towards the door. She held it high on her arms, so that it would cover her face. They walked out and he bid the guards farewell, as well as giving each some coin. They headed through the more shadowy parts of the courtyard, walking towards the stables. They went inside, sneaking through the building to not wake the horses. Baelor walked her towards the stall where his horses stood, a young grey palfrey and a big brown warhorse. He had bought both from a farmer two months ago, big working horses to carry his weight. He took his shield off the hook where he had hung it to mark the horses as his and handed it to the lady.

"You have to paint something over the dragon. As for a horse, you can take this one, his name is Hunter.", he said patting the young warhorses nose.

She looked at him with big eyes. She started to lean towards him, speaking in a low voice as she did.

"Thank you Baelor, it is more than i could ever have hoped..."

Suddenly loud laughter filled the stables behind them. Lyanna stopped, her face mere inches away from his. They both turned around to see two figures entering the stables, hugging each other tightly. The intruders hadn't seen them just yet so Baelor took her by the hand and jumped into an empty stall. They sat down, their backs to the wooden barrier that divided them from the haystack. They could hear the wet sounds of kisses, along with the rustling of the hay and then soft moans along with louder grunts. He grinned at Lyanna, she smiled back at him. Then she turned to sneak a peek over the barrier. She immediately crouched down again, her face frozen. Baelor looked at her puzzled, but then peeked over himself. Around two yards from them there was Robert Baratheon, shamelessly ploughing a serving maid as his betrothed was in the same castle. Baelor sunk back down and gave her an sympathetic look. She didn't react but he could see the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. He grabbed her and hugged her to his chest so that his doublet would mute her crying. He gently stroked her black hair with his big peasant hand and pressed a kiss to her forehead.  _What an absolute shithead,_ Baelor thought.

Half an hour later the sounds died out after two loud peaks could be heard. He heard the rustling of their clothes as the they put them back on and two pair of feet went out of the stables.

"That Bastard!", Lyanna hissed.

She stood up, Baelor followed. Lyanna gathered her armour and loaded it onto the horse. They led Hunter out of the stables, crossing the silent courtyard. It was the hour when morning slowly began to dawn, about five hours before the castle would be completely awake again. She led him towards the encampment where the starks and their vassals had risen their tents. They put Hunter in a paddock that held his Moon and the horses of the other stark children. Baelor carried the bag containing the armor inside a grey tent next to the lake. Inside Lyanna lit a candle and stuffed the bag under her field bed. When she was done she quickly closed the distance between them and kissed him. She was inexperienced and clumsy, her teeth crashing against his. When she stood back he could see how she yanked off her jerkin. But, as she turned to pull off her shirt after, Baelor grabbed her wrists to stop her.

"No, Lyanna we can't do that."

"Why not? I can do anything that Robert can do."

"You cannot give your maidenhead to a man you won't marry. It's how our world works."

"But you are my friend. And i am sure you could ask my father for my hand, he would fear your house more than Robert."

"Then it would give war. I can't do that. I'd like to but i can't."

Lyanna looked at him, her lower lip trembling.

"You are cruel."

"You may think that now. But soon you will understand why i can't pull you down with me."

She was silent. Baelor felt strange. He wanted this girl, he realised, but not only in the carnal way. He felt something alike to the feelings he held for Rhaella in his heart, only now he knew he wasn't the only one of them two to feel that way. Baelor knew that the queen didn't love him, he was merely a distraction and a source of tenderness for Rhaella. But he couldn't start a war with the warden of the Stormlands, he had no men of his own. She sat down on the bed and shook her head.

"No, i understand it all right now. You are a widower, right? I heard you were married to one of Lord Hightowers daughters."

Baelor didn't say anything, he simply sat down next to her.

"I shouldn't have brought you in this situation, Baelor."

He took  her head inside his hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"That's not the reason. I had enough war in my life, i am sick of it. And you deserve a man who won't be hanged for regicide."

Lyanna looked at him, in shock.

"It's true. Rhae organized this tourney to dethrone the king, but i want to kill him. I am the queen's lover and he hurts her."

Lyanna embraced him and kissed him on his dragon tattoo. 

"I think everyone will know a new favourite song soon. 'Baelor the Brave', the greatest hero of Westeros who gave his life to avenge his love.", she said.

He chuckled.

"Or 'Baelor the Butcher', most degenerate in a long line of degenerate Targaryens."

 

*********************************

The next morning

 

Baelor woke in his chamber, his head aching. He stayed on his bed for a moment before he stood up and dressed quickly, a black leather jerkin with a dragon over a white shirt and black leather breeches. He didn't put on a cloak, he would receive a white one soon enough. He made his way to the courtyard, standing near to Aerys as the King gave a speech about Ser Harlan. Aerys talked on over the duties of a kingsguard, about how high the honor was to protect ones king. Baelor loosened the sword in it's scabbard, brushing of some dirt from his boots at a wooden post. The six kingsguards stepped forward to form a line before the king and he straightened up his shoulders.

"Step forward, Jaime Lannister."

Baelor was shocked. He had anticipated to be chosen himself. The crowd murmured as the young knight kneeled down before the king, receiving his white cloak.

 

 

 

An hour later Baelor found himself in the stables, readying his palfrey for a ride. He needed to clear his head. As he led the horse through the stables he almost ran over Ser Jaime. The lad saddled his own horse, his eyes sad and red.

"What is it, young man?", he asked jovially.

"The king ordered my return to the capital. To protect the queen."

"And you hoped to win glory here.", Baelor said.

He thought for a moment. Aerys had chosen the lad to rob Tywin of his heir, to shame his hand. The boy however did not seem to know this, he was simply sad.  _He shouldn't be alone right now,_ he thought.

"Give me an hour. I will ride with you, two knights on the kingsroad. Sounds like an adventure.", he said, drawing a smile from the kingsguard.

 

*********************************

 

Kings Landing, mid of 282 AC

 

The day was pleasant, it seemed that winter was now truly coming to an end. The year of the false spring, the past year was called now. Baelor sat on a set of stairs in the courtyard, drinking wine as he watched the kingsguard train. Ser Jaime, who had quickly become a friend to him was currently besting Ser Oswell. The riverlander trew some biting remarks at the lad when he was forced to the ground, but they both smiled as he helped the old sarcastic bat beck to his feet. Then, suddenly the peace was disturbed.

Five riders charged into the courtyard, servants jumping out of the way of their horses. The men wore armor, their swords were drawn.

"Prince Rhaegar!", a rider with a snarling direwolf on his chestplate shouted, "Come out and die!"

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, sorry to have kept you waiting but my old PC died a short while ago and took this chapter with him so i had to rewrite it as well as i could.  
> I want to thank you all for almost 2000 hits, you are awesome. Also, regarding the POVs: I will keep it with Baelor until the rebellion is over (the years from 259 to 283 are basically the first act of my story), afterwards i will write like the books, with alternating narrators. However these POVs will mostly be Targaryens(If they know it or not) and people around the Targaryens. After Act I is through, Act II will be a new work, but i will put it together in a series.


	11. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The death of the starks and the glorious rebellion.

**!!!Warning!!! Torture following in this chapter!!!**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Red Keep, 282 AC

 

Lord Rickard stood before the throne, clad in steel, a longsword in hand. The Lord of Winterfell had arrived mere minutes ago, but Aerys had already prepared the court. Baelor boiled on the inside, his blood running hot with anger when he thought of his cousin.  _Rhaegar you fucking twat._  How could the friendly and melancholic prince abduct and rape the daughter of Lord Stark? Not only the daughter of a Lord Paramount, but Lyanna was Baelor's  _friend,_ he had told Rhaegar so. After the crown prince had returned from Harrenhal he had told him that he knew Lyanna's secret. They had laughed and toasted to the 'Knight of the Laughing Tree' who Aerys thought to be his greatest enemy.

"You raise unjustified accusations against my son and heir. I know i won't get justice by your master of laws, so i demand trial by combat!"

Baelor looked at the kingsguards instantly. Luckily Arthur was absent with Ser Oswell, but he doubted that Lord Stark could stand up to Barristan the Bold or the young lion. 

"Fine. Lay down your sword and my champion shall prepare himself."

The Warden of the North nodded, laying his weapon on the ground. A second later three of Aerys henchmen seized him, tying his hands together. Baelor pushed forward through the crowd, elbowing Lords and Ladies. 

"Aerys! What is the meaning of this? Set him free immediately!", he shouted.

"Baelor! You are forgetting yourself! I AM THE KING!", Aerys shrieked.

He felt multiple hands grabbing his arms, dragging him backwards. Baelor tried to struggle but they held him firm and forced him to his knees. The doors were opened and in came  _they._  Aerys' pets, the pyromancers. They raised a structure of steel, akin to a large roasting spit. One of Aerys men led in Lord Brandon, strapped into a strange torturing device. Baelor tried to shout but they had put a gag in his mouth. He had to watch as they filled a bassin underneath the spit with wildfire and set it aflame, before they placed Lord Rickard in it. Tears flowed down his face as he watched the gruesome scene helplessly. Aerys laughter filled the hall, accompanied by Lord Starks screams. He tasted the salt on his lips as the smell of burning flesh hit him. While he normally wasn't bothered by such, as they were familiar to him, now Baelor's stomach flipped and emptied up. The vomit filled his mouth and soaked the gag, bits of it flowing out and into his beard before they finally removed the gag. They let him go and he fell into his vomit face forward. 

The Starks were dead, finally Aerys commanded the court to leave. He called for Pycelle to write to the Eyrie, have Arryn execute his wards The men grabbed him underneath the armpits and held him up before the King. Aerys looked at him with disgust. 

"The great Impaler, vomiting from burnt flesh. I have raised you better than to defy me. I think you need another lesson. Barristan, your dagger."

Baelor looked to Selmy, but the knight simply handed the weapon over. Baelor looked at the King's trembling hand, coming closer to his face. The King laid his left on Baelor's shaved skull.

"You've defied me, but you can serve your house nonetheless. Arryn wants to rebel alongside Stark and Baratheon, Lord Varys told me of their plot. Tomorrow you ride for Highgarden, raise the reachmen. But today, i will show you how it will end if you defy me."

_I won't scream,_ he thought,  _i won't give him that._

He held his promise as the cold and sharp steel cut through the skin on his right cheek. Aerys dragged the dagger through his face three times, leaving out the already scarred left and the dragon on the right side.  _Of course, nothing should hurt his sigil._ As the thought crossed his mind, Baelor started to laugh, even more insane than Aerys before. The King stepped back and hit him, his eyes filled with fear, but even that didn't shut him up.

"WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING! STOP YOU UGLY BASTARD! I WILL NOT ALLOW THIS!"

Baelor stopped and looked him in the eye. The pain was overwhelming, but he managed to stay awake.

"I'm not broken yet. You hold no power over me, you bugger."

Aerys grabbed him again, scratching him with his long fingernails. Then, he took the left ear in his hand and pulled it away from the head. Baelor felt the blood on his lips, it flowed down from his face. He spat it in Aerys face and grinned.

The King slashed down and cut off the ear in a hacking motion. The pain was nearly unbearable, he was sure his teeth would break soon, as hard as he pressed them together.

Aerys eyes glinted with joy again, seeing Baelor's obvious pain.

"No screams yet? What a shame, i have to make that side of your face entirely useless now."

Aerys let the knife fall to the ground and put his thumb and forefinger to the corners of Baelor's left eye. Baelor couldn't stop himself, he screamed, screamed like a madman, screamed louder than the king's laughter as Aerys removed his eye from his head and bit off the string of meat that attached it to his skull.

 

*******************************

 

Ashford, end of 282 AC

 

 

The yellow banners flapped around wildly in the hot, dry wind. He was galloping hard on Lord Tarlys right, his mace held at his side. The horns of the Stormlander Host were blown as they turned to abandon their ongoing siege of Castle Ashford. Quickly, a line of pikemen formed to oppose them, the remainder of the army trying to organize behind it. As the van reached the right distance the archers and crossbowmen opened fire, with terrible results. 

Men and horses were hit, knights falling out of the saddle or being crushed under their own mounts but even the volleys couldn't stop the momentum of the reachmen. Baelor heard Robert Baratheon's booming voice before even it was drowned out by the loud clashing of the armies. 

At first, only metal meeting metal could be heard. Then the screams followed. Men and horses being impaled on the long pikes, knights send flying out of their saddles. Baelor himself was pushed out of the saddle, barely holding on to his mace. He flew backwards into some infantrymen that were to perplexed to react before he got up again and rained blows on them. His mace crushed bones, their simple jerkins and gambesons offering little protection to the hard metal edges. After he had killed three of them the others started to back off, terror in their eyes. He knew why. He was clad in black chainmail, a long black jerkin and black steel armguards along with a new great helmet that left only one hole for his remaining eye. The pain of that maiming at Aerys' hands had nearly sent him over the edge, filling him with a rage and a madness he had never known before. Only now he saw the results of that. He threw himself at the soldiers like a madman, not even taking a shield with him, only his mace, the old weapon already covered in dark red.  _That's how the saying goes,_ he thought bitterly,  _it's not about the size of the dog in the fight, it's about the size of the fight in the dog._

A man jumped into his path, raising a big battle axe above his head.  _Silveraxe._ Duncan Fell. The heir to Felwood had an impressive reputation, winning many melees, including the one at Harrenhal, and fighting alongside the King's men in the campaign against the kingswood brotherhood. He wore full plate armor but still moved with grace. Baelor grunted and attacked him, but he dodged his mace, countering with a fierce swing of his axe. He forced Baelor on his backfoot, showering him with attacks. Twice he managed to hit his head, but luckily the blade glanced of the black steel. Baelor then forced him backwards with the handle of the mace, Silveraxe stepped back. When he swung his axe again, an downwards swing that could cleave through a horse, Baelor sidestepped it, and the axe buried itself in the ground. Duncan struggled to tear it out, Baelor used this moment to his advantage. He hit Fell in the back with all his force, causing him to bend over. He unleashed many hits on his back, until the young knight fell to the ground, protecting his head with his arms. Baelor didn't stop however, raining down blows upon his foe until the helmet finally gave in and he buried his mace in Silveraxe's skull. He raised his hands to roar in victory, before he tried to yank the mace free, struggling as it was stuck. The next moment he felt like he was hit by an onstorming bull.

Baelor staggered backwards, pushing whoever hit him away a few feet. He stood opposit to a giant in gold and black, a giant growing antlers out of his head. He could see the Stormlords face through the open helmet, a grimace of hate and rage.  _Ours is the Fury,_ the saying of their house crossed his mind.

"FUCKING DRAGON BASTARD!", roared Robert. 

He swung a huge spiked warhammer at Baelor, a weapon any normal mortal could only have used with two hands. Robert wielded it in one. Baelor rolled over the ground to dodge the strike, his slightly smaller frame, experience and hopefully superior speed the only advantages he had over his foe. He didn't have time to reach for the sword at his hip, he just hit him with his armored fists. While Robert cursed and had no other option than to protect his face, Baelor simply roared and hit him, not even stopping as he felt numbing pain in his knuckles and wrists. 

But he grew to reckless. As Baelor moved closer, he was met by a swift, blind backhand strike of the warhammer, luckily only it's handle connected with his helmet. The force of this however still sent him backwards, sinking to his knees in the dirt and blood around them. 

 Robert moved towards him, readying for another swing as Baelor yanked out Dark Sister, with an unaimed scythe-like swing against Roberts stomach. The stormlords armor screeched as it connected with the dragonsteel. The gambeson was easily cut through as Baelor continued his attacks. He targeted the same spots over and over, sparks flying with each hit on the plate. Finally the steel gave in to the ancient blade and the dark red of blood tainted the armor. 

Robert grabbed his right wrist to stop another attack and gave him a headbutt so hard that some of the antler-tips on his helmet broke away as they connected with Baelors helmet. he swore he could see stars for a moment, but he staggered back just in time to  _almost_  dodge a strike of the hammer aimed for his chest. Even though the head of the weapon merely  _scraped_ his chest, almost all air left his lungs. He stretched his leg as far as he could and used all his force to kick Robert between the legs. The Stormlord roared and charged towards him, but Baelor evaded the strike, slashing at the back of Roberts knee. He sliced through some of the leather and flesh and even though Robert howled it didn't bring him down. On the contrary, it seemed as if it only fueled his fury. He punched Baelor on the head, brought him to the ground with a violent swing of the hammer against his ankle and proceeded to kick him as he was lying on the ground.

"You dragon cunt! I could kill you here and now, i..."

Robert stopped at the sound of fanfares and drums. The main host was coming, the reachmen would outnumber and overpower the rebels now. But Robert was not only an exceptional fighter, he was also a master of strategy.

"RETREAT! NORTHWARDS! WE'LL FUCK THEM ANOTHER DAY!", the stormlord shouted, drowning out the cries of battle. 

Baelor was lying still, writhing in agony as the rebel host fled. The reachmen around him cheered and someone picked him up, dragging him towards the maester.

 

***********************

 

He woke up in a cool chamber, smelling of herbs and alcohol. His chest was covered in bandage, his right food was propped up on a pile of pillows and his sword stood next to him. His lips were dry and he had a disgusting taste in his mouth.

"Water.", he croaked.

"Oh, you are awake. And i feared you would be the second Baelor Targaryen to die at Ashford."

Baelor turned his head to the right. There stood a middle aged men in the robes of a maester. He nodded towards a jug on a table and the maester hurried to fetch him some water. As Baelor tried to stand up, sudden pains pierced through his chest.

"Aye, some of your ribs are bruised, one even slightly broken. Also your right ankle is sprained, but the left is merely swollen."

The man let water flow into his mouth, slowly, just the right amount that he could swallow.

"When can i ride again? I need to pursue the rebels."

"I'm afraid it will take a few moons. The army will march for the stormlands tomorrow, Lord Tyrell means to siege out Storm's End."

He grabbed the maester at his collar.

"Tell him he has to  _pursue_. Robert still has one quarter of the rebels with him."

"I'm afraid i can't order Lord Mace around. It's late at night, everybody is getting rest for their march eastwards."

"You tell me that i have to stay in Ashford for the next months?"

"No, Lord Tyrell has arranged for a carriage to transport you to Highgarden. He said it's his honour."

Baelor sunk back in his pillows. He was basically out, had to recover for months. by that time the war could be over, his family dead or Aerys victorious in the biggest conflict in recent history, which meant his standing would be secure. But Baelor couldn't argue with Tyrell who had, in contrast to Baelor, actual power and soldiers.

"Fine. Tomorrow then, i'll go."

 

************************

 

Highgarden, fifth moon of 383 AC

 

He was sitting in the gardens with the Tyrells, his cane beside him. Lord Tyrells heir, the ten-year-old Willas played with his younger brother Garlan between the roses. The toddler Loras played with his nurse, while Lady Alerie held on to the infant Margaery next to him . Baelor started to hate this whole ''peaceful family" shit. The only person of the family he could stand at least a bit was the grandmother, Lady Olenna. Lord Luthors widow hat a keen mind and a delightful dry wit and dark humor. But the Tyrells would always insist that he would accompany them, and Baelor was forced to, without the constant care of Highgarden's maester he wouldn't be able to move again, let alone fight. He was training as much as he could, sparring and practising his footwork, starting with the basics again, things he hadn't done since he was around 14. As a result, he was in better shape than ever before, losing most of the technique faults and little flaws he had picked up for the last 15 years.

He had once again discovered how he disliked children. He could stand being around little Rhaenys and Aegon for a bit, if they left him alone and were silent. Viserys he truly disliked, a pampered little prince who Baelor knew would be like his father one day. However, whenever he spent time with Rhaella during the day the boy would be present so Baelor had to swallow his disdain. Lord Tyrells children were mostly loud, a happy bunch of brownhaired devils. The elder boys were permitted one hour of playtime every day, otherwise being occupied with the maester or the  master-at-arms. That was unusually strict, even Baelor had been allowed more liberties by Aerys.

_Aerys._

The pain where his left eye used to be returned, the barely healed scars on his face itching. Lady Alerie seemed to notice his pained expression and put the baby in his arms.

"Here, hold her while i check on the boys. Holding her always soothes me."

Baelor looked at the little child in his arms. He had held the occasional infant, they all looked the same, their faces that were somewhat chubby and wrinkled at the same time scrunched up in some king of discomfort or disgust. This one seemed different however, looking at him with brown eyes while gurgling and smiling a toothless grin. He couldn't help himself but to smile. 

"You think you're a pretty one don't you, aye? But you are just a little bag of meat, skin and bones."

The infant yanked on his beard as if she had understood his insult and he flinched. The scars were not really healed, it was still painful when his face was touched or even moved, speaking, smiling and grimacing caused him to feel pain as well.

"Fuck me, that hurt little rose. If you keep behaving like that, no lord will ever marry you."

"Oh, we were hoping for a prince anyway. Like the son of the one who sent you this letter.", Lady Olenna's voice came from behind him.

Baelor quickly rose to his feet, nearly dropping the child. The queen of thorns held a sealed scroll bearing a three-headed dragon.

"Let's exchange it. I'll take my letter, you take the little meatbag."

He took the scroll and broke the seal. Then he quickly went away from the family to read it in peace.

 

_Baelor,_

_I have prepared a great host of loyalists._

_My army is ready to march north to deal with the uprising._

_I need you by my side cousin, now more than ever before. Join me in King's Landing._

_We have to decide not only the fate of our dynasty, but of the entirety of the seven kingdoms._

_Rhaegar_

 

  
He looked back towards the Tyrells.

"I thank you for your hospitality, myladys. I need a warhorse and a new set of armor.

 

**************************************

 

The Red Keep, sixth moon of 283

 

In the dead of the night, Baelor searched the armory. After Ashford his mace had disappeared, Robert must have taken it as some kind of trophy. He was looking for a new one, or rather an old one. The royal armory was more of a trophy room in itself, filled with certain pieces of loot and torn enemy banners. A central piece in display was Daemon Blackfyres helmet, complete with his blood still crusted on it. Baelors fingers gingerly touched the shield of Daemon II, or John the fiddler, before he reached the stand that held a big mace of black steel, covered by orange and black banners. He touched the hard black edges. This mace had taken his namesake's life, had crushed the supporters of Daemon at the redgrass field and had been with Maekar until his death. He took the leather grip in his hand and raised the heavy old thing.

Someone cleared his throat behind him and he turned on his heel, finding Rhaella in the doorway.

"You have been avoiding me."

 

"I don't want you to see how ugly i am..."

"Baelor, i have seen how scarred you are! I have visited you after this monster tortured you, but you were unconscious."

"Then you know why i didn't come."

"I don't care, stupid, i love you for what you are, not how you look!"

His breath was caught in his throat. He smiled that faint smile of his, 

"You love me?"

She stepped forward to take his face in her hands.

"With all my heart."

Baelor hugged her tightly and pressed his lips against hers. Rhaella broke the kiss and took his hand. 

The queen led him through the dark keep, into the empty throne room. The empty eyes of the dragon skulls followed them through the hall, as she led him up the stairs of the monstrosity of iron. Rhaella made him sit down and straddled him.

"Tomorrow you and my son will march off.", she whispered in his ear, "But before ou save our house, i will ride you like Visenya rode Vhagar, right here on my husband's throne."

 

*****************************

 

The Riverlands, near the Trident, two months later

 

A squire fastened his helmet to the hauberk. Today they had to force their way over the river, take the momentum away from the rebels. They were almost done when Maester Eylif stepped in, a scroll in hand.

"For you my prince. From the capital."

He broke the seal, to see Rhaella's handwriting.

"Out. Both. Thank you, squire."

As soon as the flap closed behind them he opened it again and hurried towards a candle. Rhaella always wrote him small messages in normal ink, followed by longer ones in lemon juice ink. He held it over the flame so that the words became visible.

 

_My love,_

_my heart is an ocean of happiness right now._

_After i dismissed the early signs, it is clear to me now that i am with child._

_Luckily my brother doesn't know, nor can he be the father._

_Return to me fast, i fear what he might do if he finds out._

_R._

 

Tears welled up in his eyes, flowing down his face. He would be a father. A child of his own, a beautiful little girl or a fierce little lad, he could already see it before him. The flap was opened again and Rhaegar stepped in.

"Baelor, are you ready? What is it?"

He handed Rhaegar the parchment. The prince read it and hugged him.

"I am so happy for you. After the battle, we will immediately ride south and dethrone my father. All will be settled."

He took the letter back, ripped of the part with the personal message and stuffed it into his chainmail, directly over his heart.

 

The kingsguards entered the tent.

"The men are ready my princes."

Baelor took Maekar's mace in his hands.

"There is an old valyrian poem i learned from a friend in Lys. The dragonlords often recuted it before the battle, they thought it would bring them good fortune. I tried to translate it while keeping the rhymes."

He closed his eyes.

 

 

_"Fight, until you stop to feel,_

_Murder with a heart of steel._

_Cold is Balerions gripe,_

_But your days they have been ripe."_

 

 

They moved out, noone speaking another word.

*******************************

 

The battle raged around him as he threw himself at the northmen. He rode them down with his horse, swinging his mace at their heads. Only the brave tried to fight in the ford, the most brutal battlefield.

"SWORD TIME! AXE TIME! CROW TIME! FIGHT YOU SONS OF BITCHES!", he roared.

On the flank the dornish spearmen were breaking the knights of the vale, on the other one the riverlanders clashed against each other.

But the battle would be decided here, in the center. When Baelor had stormed in with the vanguard he had almost crossed paths with Baratheon again, but the chaos had torn them apart.

Rhaegar and Ser Barristan fought to his left, about fifty yards away when he saw the Lords Stark and Baratheon charge them. While Ser Barristan fought Lord Eddard and was quickly swept away in the battle, Rhaegar engaged the Stormlord. He dodged the warhammer several times, knowing he had no chance to block it. When Rhaegar managed to slay Roberts destrier the rebel flew to the ground and Baelor thought that the day was theirs. But then, he rose out of the red water and killed Rhaegars steed with one blow of the hammer. The prince tumbled to the ground, losing his advantage immediately. Baelor kicked his horse forward, riding over friends and foes alike as he hurried to his cousin.

Baelor could practically feel how the world slowed down as Robert pushed Rhaegar away with a hand on his chest. Rhaegar spread his arms as he staggered in the shallow water, trying to regain his balance. He roared at the top of his lungs when Robert smashed his hammer to Rhaegars chest. He was merely a couple of yards away, so he could see the metal caving in, rubies and blooddrops flying through the air. Robert raised his hammer in victory, just as the horse crashed into him. 

Baelor had jumped out of the saddle seconds before, falling in the water next to Rhaegar. He quickly got to his cousin and removed the helmet.

The eyes of the dragon prince were getting dull, his breath was shallow. He gripped tightly onto Baelor's arm and opened his mouth. Red flowed down from the corner of his mouth.

"Lyanna.", the prince croaked.

He stopped breathing. Baelor closed his eyes with his left, stemming himself up on his mace. He hit an man from the hayfords in the back of the head, because the soldier threw away his spear to grab a ruby. Baelor took the stone and shoved it into his boot.

"ROBERT!", he roared.

The Stormlord was just now coming to his feet, about five yards away. Baelor cursed, he had missed the opportunity to slaughter him where he was lying. He gripped the mace with two hands and moved towards Baratheon. Robert charged at him, his hammer in hand.

The lord, still dazed from the impact of Baelor's destrier was slower than before, he collected three hits of the mace to his chest before he even could react. Baelor couldn't compete with his brute strength however, so they didn't destroy his armor. Now, Robert grabbed the mace with his left, seemingly awoken by those first hits. The rebel twisted the mace so that Baelor had to let it go, then attacked him with the hammer. But Baelor's light armor did pay off, he managed to evade Roberts strike and whip out Dark Sister. Robert threw the mace in the air and flipped it so that the handle landed in his left, then he approached, hitting hammer and mace together. Baelor roared and engaged. 

The stormlord fought like a demon, blocking every swing with one of his weapons to counter with the other. Baelor's slashes grew harder, fiercer and more desperate by the second, sparks were flying as the superior valyrian steel hacked away splinters of the other weapons. Then, under a brutal two handed swing the handle of Maekar's mace gave in, the weapon breaking at the hands of it's owner. When Baelor's eyes followed the head of his weapon for a moment he was hit by a wild kick to the chest. 

Baelor flew backwards, onto the dead Rhaegar, his sword flew out of his hand. He saw how Robert threw away the useless handle of the mace and took the hammer in both hands. Baelor's hands searched for a weapon around him when he caught the handle of Rhaegar's dagger. The dagger he had gifted him, valyrian steel and dragonbone, matching Dark Sister. Robert walked towards him, menacingly slow.

"And i hoped to add another one of your maces to my trophies. But your sword will do.", the Stormlord taunted him.

"Take this for a trophy!", Baelor screamed as he jumped up towards Robert. 

It was a low jump, Baelor barely left the water before his shoulders hit Robert's shins, knocking over the rebel. He buried the dagger deep in the hollow of his knee, yanking it around through leather, skin and muscles. He grabbed for something else, something to end the Stormlord, but a boot to his face sent him backwards.

Lord Eddard had returned, but in contrast to him he had returned in time to save his friend. The quiet wolf held a valyrian steel greatsword, Ice if Baelor remembered correctly. He crawled backwards as fast as he could, when his hand found a familiar flame-shaped crossguard. He took Dark Sister upside down and slashed at Stark violently. The young lord blocked, he didn't have to fear for his weapon to break.

The horns of their, no  _his_ host already sounded a retreat, the might of house Targaryen was scattering in all directions. The fleeing men were a river by themselves, blocking him from Lord Stark. He was grabbed by some soldiers who dragged him back.

"NO! STAND AND FIGHT! THE BATTLE IS NOT OVER!", he tried to rally them, but to no avail. 

The stream of the loyalists carried him away, the enemy in pursuit.

_We have lost. I have failed._

"I NEED A HORSE!", he shouted.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is nearly the end of Part I of the series. The next chapter will be an epilogue, then i will take a break until june to concentrate on my abitur. As always, feel free to leave feedback.


	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a dynasty has been shattered under Robert Baratheons hammer, new hope is born.

**Eddard Stark**

**Tower of Joy, twelvth moon of 283**

 

The three men in white stood before the gates, their swords unsheathed, white cloaks flowing in the hot, dry wind. Gerold Hightower, Oswell Whent and Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. The deadliest fighter in all seven kingdoms. 

Ned's own company was less impressive in names, but made it up in numbers. Martyn Cassel, Theo Wull, Ethan Glover, Ser Mark Ryswell, Lord Dustin. They were led by him and Howland Reed, the small crannogman that became something like a brother to him in the war.  _Seven men,_ he thought,  _does that mean the southern gods favor us?_ Then he saw the steel gazes worn by the kingsguards, each one of them with a three-headed dragon brooch holding their cloaks in place.  _But three heads has the dragon. Only a real dragon heads would be deadlier than those three._

"Lord Stark.", Dayne greeted him.

"I looked for you on the Trident.", he answered.

"We weren't there.", stated Hightower.

"Woe to the usurper if we had been.", said Whent.

"When the capital fell, Ser Jaime killed your king with his golden sword, and i asked myself where you had been."

"Here. Or Aerys would still be king, and Ser Jaime would burn in the deepest of the seven hells.", said Hightower while Dayne grimaced.

"When i rode to Storm's End all the Lords and Knights of the Reach surrendered and swore fealty to us. I hoped you would be with them."

"Our knees don't bend that easy.", answered Ser Arthur.

"Prince Baelor is gathering the royal fleet at Dragonstone, Ser Willem has fled there with the queen and Viserys."

"Prince Baelor and Ser Willem are good men, brave and true.", said Hightower.

"But not of the Kingsguard. The Kingsguard never flees.", added Dayne.

"Neither back then, nor now. We swore an oath.", said Whent.

Without a command all kingsguards went into fighting position. Dawns blade was pale, almost alive in the light of the evening sun.

"Where is my sister?", he asked.

"I wish you good fortune in the wars to come.", Dayne answered.

The pained scream of a woman could be heard from the tower and the northmen behind him took up their weapons and raised their shields.

"And now it begins.", Arthur declared.

Ned drew Ice, the ancient valyrian steel greatsword that had served hundreds of starks before him.

"No,", he answered with sadness in his voice, "Now it ends."

The knights in white stood at their positions as the northmen advanced. Howland was the first to fall, as he tried to attack Dayne from the side while he fought Ned and Martyn, Whent slashed at him with his backhand, slicing trough the leather armor. The crannogman fell to the ground, clutching his chest. Glover and Dustin howled and attacked Whent simultaniously. They roared like bears, angry and fierce. The battlecry was long, until it turned to screams. Mark was decapitated by Hightower before Theo managed to run the knight through with his sword. Wull took up the fight with Whent and buried his axe inside the knight's chest before Oswell sliced trough his throat with his last breath.

In the meantime Dayne had kept them at bay, only ever parrying their strikes. But when he heard Oswells scream, something seemed to snap in Ser Arthur's head. He dodged Ice with a pirouette and hit Martyn in the middle with a fierce swing of Dawn. The sword sliced halfway through his body before Arthur applied more force to cut him completely in half. Ned took a stance opposite of Dayne, raising Ice high over his head, the hold to parry. Dayne attacked him, swift and fierce.

Ned tried al he could, every move he learned in his life but to no avail. After what felt like hours Arthur knocked Ice out of his hands. He jumped backward as fast as he could, Dayne following with the sword raised.

"Stop running Stark and listen to m-", he began before a blade came out of his throat.

Dayne fell to his knees and Dawn was suddenly lying before Ned's feet. Howland stood behind Dayne, a bloody dagger in his hand. Ned took Dawn in both his hands and laid it on Arthur's shoulder. He took a swing while Dayne looked at him and opened his mouth, but only blood filled it before Ned decapitated him.

He woke up from his trance and hurried towards the tower. The screams led him quickly through the keep, up and up the stairs.

On the top level he found his sister, her white shift red, laying in a bed of blood. She looked pained and weak, far from the young girl who became a mystery knight more than two years ago.

"Ned.", she said weakly.

"Lyanna."

He left Dawn leaning against the bed and knelt by her side.

"Is that you?", she said with a weak smile, "Is that really you?"

She searched his hand with hers and he squeezed it before laying both their handson her stomach while his left carressed her hair.

"You're not a dream."

"No, i'm not a dream. I'm here, right here."

"I've missed you, big brother."

"I missed you too."

"I want to be brave."

"Shh. You are."

"No, i'm not."

He looked at his hand. While he had seen his share of blood, spilled more than his share and even tasted his own, seeing the blood of his little sister flowing out of her body made his eyes fill with tears. 

"I don't want to die."

"You're not going to die."

He looked at her, she had begun to cry and breath heavily, then he looked at the maid in the room.

"Get us some water!", he demanded.

"No, no water just listen-"

"Is there a maester?"

He felt her right on his cheek.

"Listen to me Ned."

He moved his ear directly above her ear. She was almost to weak to speak to him.

"His name is Jaeherys Targaryen, you hve to protect him. Promise me Ned. Robert will kill him, you know he will. Promise me."

A maid laid a babe in his arms, a small bundle of linen and human. Short black hair on the top of his head and when he opened his eyes they were a dark grey, strange for an infant, with tiny flecks of indigo inside them. 

"Promise me Ned, promise me."

 

 

**Baelor Targaryen**

**Dragonstone, fourth moon of 284**

  


The doors to the chamber of the painted table were thrusted open, a servant stormed in. Outside the winds howled, heavy rains falling for the last three days. He was peeling pomegranates for Rhaella and Viserys, his lover heavy with child.

"What is it? Why are you bursting into the room like that?"

"The ships! The commanders believe a storm is rolling in, it will destroy our fleet."

Baelor cursed, the fleet was their only hope. After their defeat on the Trident he had hurried to reach the capital, but when he heard that Aerys sent away Rhaella and the boy he had stolen a little boat at cracklaw point to sail over to Dragonstone. The plan was simple, waiting here until the rebels tried to ship over, then meet them on the open seas. The men of the royal fleet were the best sailors in the realm apart from the ironborn, they would butcher any navy Robert could muster.

He dismounted his horse at the docks, men were running around, captains and officers calling upon the sailors. The men however had already been dismissed for the evening, most of them already drunk.

"Captain! What can we do to save the fleet?", he yelled at one of the commanders.

"We need to get them all into the harbor, at open seas they are thrown around like toys!"

"Get the bigger ships first!"

"My prince, they are anchored at the east side of the island!"

"Shit!"

The eastern side would be most exposed to the storm and the shores were rocky and steep, no place to dock safely.

"FINE! Sail every ship possible into the harbor!"

"We won't be able to reach them! Look at the waves."

Baelor ran towards the dike that protected the town and the harbor from the sea. When he reached the top he could see why it was impossible. Waves as high as small huts crashed against the boats, some of them already sinking. A few rowboats with sailors were thrown around between them, brave men, their death was certain. The waves almost went over the dike, it would only be a short while before it broke. Then, the whole village would drown. He returned to the commanders that were rallying their sailors.

"Fuck the ships, we need to save the smallfolk!"

"What? Are you out of your mind, we need the ships!"

He grabbed the captain by his throat.

"The dike is breaking, get the people up the hills, to the castle. Or do you want to save the fleet just to face a mutiny when the men learn we let their families die?"

"But the WAR!"

"We'll fight with the ships that survive!"

Baelor turned to the sailors.

"Run to every house in the town, get the people up to the castle, set the livestock free to run up. The dike will break."

He ran to the nearest hut and nearly ran through the door. An old man sat at the fire with his family, all white of hair. Dragonseed,  _kin._  

"Follow me, the dike is breaking. You all have to go to the keep."

 

*********

 

Baelor helped people to put the few things they could take on their backs, or on their animals if they had any. Lightning tore through the sky, thunder caused children to cry and animals to go wild. Young men were pulling wagons loaded with elders and toddlers, everyone else practically ran up the winding road to the black citadel. Baelor walked near the end of the procession, making sure no one got left behind. He noticed a guard from the castle forcing a path in the opposite direction on horseback, slowing everything down. 

"Prince Baelor! The queen has fallen down a set of stairs, she has gone into labour early!"

"FUCK! Give me the horse and make sure no one is left behind!"

He almost jumped into the saddle, ignoring the short stirrups. He kicked the horse in the flanks, forcing it into a gallop up the hill.

"Move!", he yelled at the refugees.

Baelor halted the horse only when he rode into the stone drum.

"All servants up! We shelter the smallfolk here until the storm is over, find shelter for them!", he yelled before he ran up the stairs.

The Lord's chamber in which Rhaella and Viserys slept were on the second highest level, just below the painted table. Rhaella must have fallen down those stairs as thunder made the castle shake. The maester almost jumped when Baelor barged in, the midwifes also looking curiously. Baelor and Rhaella hadn't told many people of their affair, it would be better if the people thought the child was Aerys'.

"My prince, this is hardly proper. We have to insist that you leave.", Rhaella's septa said.

"Downstairs are people in need of spiritual wellfare, young children and such. I think your talents are better used their septa, i will take your place by the queen's side."

He moved on to take Rhaella's hand and kneel down beside her bed. She breathed heavily but still tried to smile at him.

"Prince Baelor, the King has specifically sent me as a companion to the queen, i have to demand..."

"OUT!", he yelled at her.

Rhaella flinched next to him and squeezed his hand even harder.

"You...should...try...ugh...to...be..nicer...sometimes...Aagh."

"Shhh. Breathe."

The process seemed to last forever, Baelors hand was growing numb, falling asleep even as Rhaella squeezed it. Then, she let out an animal-like scream, followed by a second, silent one from where the midwife stood.

"It's a girl! A young healthy girl, my queen.", she said as she held her up.

They wrapped the child into clean white cloth and gave her to Rhaella. The maester looked to stop possible bleedings before he declared that the queen was safe and sound as well. Rhaella started to cry silently as she looked into the tiny face. While Baelor hadn't seen many, he could swear his daughter was more beautiful than regular babes. The child had stopped wailing and was falling asleep, as a tiny yawn opened her mouth Baelor felt as if his heart was bursting.

"What shall be her name, my queen."

"Daenerys. Daenerys the first was born from Queen Naerys and her knight in my opinion, just like her. Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, daughter of Rhaella and Baelor."

"But, since you two aren't married..."

"Set up legitimizaton papers.", Baelor said.

"But who..."

"Viserys. He only knows how to write his name, let him sign them. Viserys III of House Targaryen."

 

**************

 

On hour later

 

The papers were ready and Baelor had packed up most of their belongings. They were currently inside chests and bags, ready for their escape once the storm was over. While his original plan had been to await Robert on Dragonstone and challenge him to single combat, he couldn't risk his family over the honour of the rebels. He gripped Dark Sister tightly as the maester laid certain things before him.

"Here is the decree, the king only needs to sign them. And here is all the medicine the queen might need on the journey. Now i only need to write to the citadel for the records."

Baelor folded the decree and tucked it into his boot.

"I'll come with you."

They walked to the rookery in silence. Once inside his chambers the man caught a raven to fly to the citadel and pulled out ink and paper. 

He talked as he wrote it down.

" _Queen Rhaella gave birth to a daughter on this day, the 30th of the fourth moon. The child's name is Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Daughter of-"_

The man couldn't finish, as Baelor grabbed his chain from behind to choke him with it.

"I'm sorry, but i hate loose ends."

The maester reached for him as he twisted the chain.

"Robert might hate old Aerys and his children, but the daughter of the man who crippled him? I don't want to give him more reasons to kill her."

The man fell to the ground, coughing as his face went blue.

"I thank you still. Even i know this labour was heavy, without you she might have died. But not even the conclave at the citadel can now who her father is or that she is a bastard. The midwifes we'll take with us to Braavos, but you will always be more loyal to the citadel."

The man had stopped to breath so Baelor stood up. He finished the letter with "Daughter of the Dragon" and tied it to the raven's leg. Then he took the maester over his shoulder, walked out to the balcony and threw him over the railing.

"The things we do for love.", he said, looking into the stormy sky.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was act one of my story, i'm glad i could still finish it. Also i changed Jon's name, no matter how obsessed you are with a prophesy it's simply inacceptable to call your child after his brother that was brutally murdered because of your actions. My opinion on that, Dave and Dan.  
> Ages at the end of the story:  
> Rhaella: 40  
> Baelor: 30  
> Viserys: 7  
> Jon/Dany: 0  
> Robert: 21  
> Ned: 20


End file.
